


An Unexpected Boggart

by annabelledeery



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boggarts, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Canon Compliant, Draco Malfoy Bashing, Dursley Family Bashing (Harry Potter), Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, POV Harry Potter, POV Third Person Limited, Severus Snape Bashing, The Golden Trio
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2019-10-15 07:34:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17524508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabelledeery/pseuds/annabelledeery
Summary: What if Harry Potter's boggart in third year wasn't a dementor? Not Voldemort, not death... something entirely different.Something even Harry wasn't expecting.Hogwarts will never see him the same again.-This is my first work on ao3! Thoughts are appreciated. [TW: child abuse; no graphics]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm annabelledeery and this is my first work ever on ao3.  
> This is inspired by two writers on fanfiction.net, TheRogueLibrarian and JBrocks917; my story may be similar but I have no intention of plagiarism. Forgive me!  
> Thoughts are appreciated. I'd love to get feedback as I've never posted my writing publicly before.  
> Chapter updates will probably not be regular. My apologies!  
> Enjoy reading!  
> -  
> Trigger Warning: child abuse, however there are no graphics  
> [I do not own J.K. Rowling's wizarding world]  
> Update 2/6/19: Format Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first work on ao3! I'm super excited to be writing here. :)  
> In the beginning I will follow the Prisoner of Askaban pretty accurately, so I will try to speed it up so I don't bore those of you who read the book.  
> I hope you enjoy this story & this first chapter!  
> ═══════════  
> ✧ January 23, 2019 ✧  
> 

╔══════════════╗

  ** _─_** _ **Chapter 1**_

╚══════════════╝

 

Harry, Ron and Hermione had been talking at their desks when Professor Lupin walked into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

The students went quiet as he walked the distance of the room and placed his briefcase on his desk with a thud. He turned with a weary smile, his shabby robes sweeping the floor.

"Good afternoon," he said. "If you would put your things away, please. We will not be working in here. You will need only your wands."

Exchanging bewildered looks, the class packed their books and quills into their bags and a chorus of murmuring filled the air. Practical Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons had never gone well for them before. Harry remembered Lockhart and grimaced.

"This way," Professor Lupin said and walked out the door.

The class followed him down two deserted corridors, and after an encounter with Peeves they at last stopped outside the staffroom door. The students filed inside the long, panelled room. Mismatched chairs lined the walls and all of them were empty except for one, which Professor Snape occupied. Professor Lupin made to close the door but Snape interrupted, "Leave it open, Lupin. I'd rather not witness this."

Snape got to his feet and strode to the doorway, where he said, "Possibly no one's warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear."

Harry watched as both Neville and Hermione went scarlet and lowered their gazes to the floor. Harry turned to glare at Snape.

"I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation," Professor Lupin said, "and I am sure he will perform it admirably."

Snape's lip curled and he shut the door. Neville's face resembled a round tomato as Professor Lupin beckoned the class toward the end of the room, next to an aging, wood wardrobe. Professor Lupin made to stand next to it and it suddenly jumped and wobbled on its legs. The class pulled back in shock.

"Nothing to worry about," Professor Lupin said calmly. "There's a boggart in there."

Most people seemed to think was something to worry about. It seemed Neville's face couldn't get any redder, yet it did. Students eyed the wardrobe apprehensively.

"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," Professor Lupin explained. "This one moved in yesterday, and Professor Dumbledore granted me permission to use it in my third year classes.

"The first question we must ask is, what is a boggart?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air. "It's a shape-shifter," she said. "It takes shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," said Professor Lupin, and Hermione glowed. "Here in the dark, this boggart has not taken shape yet. He doesn't know what will frighten a person on the other side of a door. No one knows what he looks like alone, because when he comes out, he will immediately become whatever each of us fears most.

"This means," he continued, ignoring Neville's sputter of terror, "that we have an advantage over the boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?"

Harry had a go, which was difficult as Hermione bobbed up and down on the balls of her feet, hand held high in the air.

"Er -- because there are so many of us, it won't know what shape it should be?"

"Precisely," Professor Lupin said, and Hermione lowered her hand with a disappointed look. "It's best to have company when facing a boggart. He becomes confused. The charm that repels a boggart is simple, but requires force of mind. What really finishes a boggart is laughter. You need to force it to become something amusing.

"Let's practice without wands first. Repeat after me... Riddikulus!"

"Riddikulus!" The class echoed.

"Very good," Professor Lupin smiled warmly. "But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. The word alone will not be enough. And this is where you come in, Neville."

Neville shook more violently than the wardrobe as he walked forward and out of the safety of the crowd.

"First things first: what would you say frightens you most in the world?"

No words came out of Neville's lips as they barely moved.

"Didn't catch that, Neville," Professor Lupin said cheerfully.

In just more than a whisper, Neville said, "Professor Snape."

Nearly everyone laughed and even Neville wore a small grin.

"Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?"

"Er, yes," Neville said nervously. "But I don't want the boggart to turn into her either."

"No, you misunderstand me," Professor Lupin smiled. "I wonder, could you tell us what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?"

Neville said, "Always the same hat.. a tall one with a vulture on top. A long green dress normally... and sometimes a fox-fur scarf. Oh, and a big red handbag," he finished.

"Can you picture those clothes very clearly in your mind's eye, Neville?"

"Yes."

"When the boggart bursts out this wardrobe, it will assume the form of Professor Snape, and you will raise your wand and cry 'Riddikulus' -- and concentrate hard on your grandmother's clothes. If all goes well, Boggart Professor Snape will be forced into said clothes."

A great shout of laughter filled the room.

"If Neville is successful, the boggart will shift his attention to each of us in turn," Professor Lupin said. "Take a moment to think of what scares you most, and how you could make it look comical."

The room went utterly silent. Harry, alone with his thoughts, wondered to himself. What was he scared of?

His first thought instantly was Voldemort. A Voldemort returned to his original full strength. Another image entered his brain. A rotting, grotesque hand slithering from a black cloak... a long, rattling breath... a cold that seemed would never leave. He shuddered, and his thoughts drifted from each one. Which was he more scared of? And how would he make it amusing? Along with this, something itched at his brain. Something that could be even more frightening than both of these. But what was it? He heard Ron muttering to himself, "Take its legs off." He assumed Ron was thinking of his greatest fear: spiders. Harry demanded his mind tell him this thing that kept clawing at him, but Professor Lupin spoke before he could reach it...

"Everyone ready?" Professor Lupin announced.

Harry's stomach lurched. He wasn't ready. How could he attempt to stop the boggart when he couldn't even figure out what it was he was scared of?

"Everyone, back away from Neville so that he can get a clear shot," Professor Lupin said.

The class retreated against the back wall, leaving Neville alone in front of the wardrobe. He was pale and his hand shook as he held his wand ready.

"On the count of three," Professor Lupin said, pointing his wand at the wardrobe handle. "One -- two -- three -- now!"

Sparks shot from Professor Lupin's wand. The boggart erupted from the wardrobe. Hook-nosed and repulsive, Professor Snape stepped out, eyes flashing. Neville backed away, frightened, as Snape beared down on him.

"R-R-Riddikulus!" Neville squeaked.

There was a crack. Snape stumbled and he was suddenly dressed in a long lace dress and a towering hat with a moth eaten vulture. He swung a red handbag on his arm.

The class roared in laughter, and Professor Lupin shouted, "Parvarti! Forward!"

Harry's heart pounded in his chest and he struggled to not shake with each thump. He didn't join in the laughing as Parvarti unraveled the mummy's bandages, and hoped no one noticed his lack of enthusiasm. Angrily, he ordered his brain to tell him his greatest fear, yet it would not comply. Why could he not figure this out? A banshee screamed at Seamus and Harry's hair stood on end; both from the banshee and his own fear of what was coming.

The banshee lost its voice, which then turned into a disfigured hand in front of Dean. It became a mousetrap, which morphed into a giant spider in front of Ron. A few people screamed as the spider advanced on Ron, clicking its pincers. Ron bellowed the charm and its legs vanished, the spider rolling over onto its back.

Harry realized Lavender was the last person before his turn. To his horror, Lavender squealed and ran out of the way of the spider, leaving the boggart in front of him. He stood in place, waiting for the boggart to take form and show him the answer. He caught sight of Professor Lupin, who wore a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

When the boggart transformed, the room went completely silent. Harry froze in place. He stared at the boggart in shock. His greatest fear was HIM?

A man stood before the class. Resembling a large walrus, his brown mustache sat on top of his frown and small tufts of brown stuck up from his head. He was purple and his face was all scrunched up, turning his eyes into slits. He wore a green vest and white button down long sleeve around his wide torso. None of the other students knew who this man was. Only Harry did. And he was still trying to figure out why his muggle uncle would be his greatest fear.

Then Uncle Vernon started to speak.

" _Freak!_  Live in this house and filthy our home! How dare you bring your freakishness into this place! Can't even clean the dishes properly, can you? You are worthless. You will never be any good for anyone! Who would love a  _freak_ like you?" He spat at Harry and a large vein popped up on his forehead.

Harry felt a furious remark rise up in his throat but he swallowed it down as his uncle spoke again.

"There is something seriously wrong with you, boy!" Uncle Vernon approached him menacingly. Harry felt his feet lead him back and up against the wall. He was starting to realize why this was his greatest fear. "Walk away from me like the coward you are! No good piece of filth! Why do we keep you here? We should throw you out where you belong!"

As his uncle continued to shout in his face, stepping closer and closer each second, he was suddenly his eight year old self again. Afraid of his cousin and his gang who beat him. Scared of his uncle who continuously yells at him for something he did wrong. What did he do? He shrunk against the wall and started to feel hot tears prick his eyes.

"NASTY, UNGRATEFUL FREAK YOU ARE! YOU ARE A NO GOOD BURDEN TO THIS FAMILY, AND YOU WILL NEVER BE-"

Professor Lupin dashed in front of him and Uncle Vernon immediately morphed into a silver moon, peeking out from behind puffy grey clouds.

"Riddikulus!" He cried and the moon became a balloon, whizzing around the room and then falling to the floor.

The room became silent again, but Harry's heart was pulsing loudly and his uncle's voice rang in his ears. He started to come back to reality. He was thirteen. He was at Hogwarts. With his friends. Everyone saw this. His arch nemesis, Malfoy, witnessed this--

"Harry?" He heard Hermione's voice say tentatively behind him. He turned and saw Ron and Hermione looking at him with looks of confusion and concern.

"C-Can I go to the restroom?" Harry asked breathlessly, and without permission he bolted out the door and shot down the corridor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here is the next chapter!  
> This one is slightly shorter than chapter 1, because I'm writing this later at night and tomorrow I have school.  
> I already had this chapter planned, so I wrote it out today. What can I say, I'm impatient!  
> Enjoy!  
> ═══════════  
> ✧ January 24, 2019 ✧

╔══════════════╗

_**─ Chapter 2** _

╚══════════════╝

 

Harry's breath was uneven and his chest heaved as he ran down the many Hogwarts corridors faster than he had ever before.

He wasn't paying attention to where he was going. He just needed to leave.

Leave now.

He felt numb and his mind was blank; the only thing he could hear was the slapping of his shoes against marble and his own shallow breaths. He turned a corner and came upon an ordinary wooden castle door. He swung it open to reveal a crowded broom cupboard with mops and many different artifacts on the shelves, most likely left by other students. He closed the door behind him and sat down among the dust and spiders.

The forlorn state of this nook didn't faze him. It was just like the cupboard under the stairs at Privet Drive that he had lived in three years ago.

Privet Drive.

Memories flooded his brain and he struggled to keep himself together. What was wrong with him? The Dursleys had never bothered him like this before. He pulled his knees up and buried his face in them. He remembered life at Privet Drive; going without food for days at a time... doing all the house work through the blazing heat and freezing cold... being beaten by Dudley and his friends... told he's worthless and unwanted every day... he shuddered and held himself tighter.

Miserably, he thought about how the one secret he had ever had to himself was now out to the public along with everything else. Soon enough Malfoy and his Slytherin posse would spread the word that Harry Potter fears a muggle more than anything, and they'd surely torment him about it. Would he live this down? It didn't seem likely. Everything about him had become a show for the world to see. Hogwarts would soon realize that the boy who lived isn't seen a hero at home. More like a burden. They'd pity him -- they'd look down at him as if he was a helpless child. Another spectacle was just what Harry needed.

He went still when he heard muffled voices coming from outside the door. He strained to hear what was being said, and his heart fell as he recognized the two voices.

"Do you think he went back to the dormitory?" Ron's anxious voice asked.

"He wouldn't go near people after something like that!" Hermione said, voice unnaturally high pitched and hysterical.

"Okay, it was just a question," Ron grumbled.

Harry's heart sped up again. His friends knew that Harry didn't like the Dursleys, but he had never gone into detail about how they treated him. A part of him wanted them to walk past and leave him to sulk, and another part wanted them to come in and be with him while he suffered. Their bickering voices grew gradually clearer until they were right in front of the door concealing Harry. The door opened and Harry looked up at his friends' worried faces. Their faces relaxed a fraction and he felt his face flush with embarrassment at being found so vulnerable.

"Harry," Hermione said softly and she shut the door quietly. " _Lumos._ " The tip of her wand glowed and it washed their faces in a pale light. Ron and Hermione sat down in front of him.

"Are you alright?" Hermione spoke first.

"I'm fine," Harry lied and wondered if he'd ever been less fine. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

"You don't look fine, mate," Ron said.

"Professor Lupin dismissed us right after you ran out. And don't shove us off," Hermione told him sternly, "because we're not leaving no matter what you say. Something's wrong, don't deny it."

Harry dropped his gaze to the floor. "Sorry," he mumbled, and Hermione's face softened.

"You don't have to say," Ron said. "We just want to help."

Harry looked up at his friends, faces filled with empathy. He felt eternally grateful for them being there, but his throat was dry and he couldn't put words to his feelings. Instead, something inside him let go and he felt salty tears form in his eyes and slide down his face. He broke eye contact and dropped his eyes to the floor again.

"Oh," Hermione breathed, noticing his watery eyes.

He tried but he could not stop the tears from coming. They fell faster as Hermione and Ron came closer and huddled around him. Years of holding in his emotions with the Dursleys poured out of him through his tears. His body wracked with sobs as he fell apart in this little broom cupboard. But wrapped in his friends' warm embrace, it seemed that he would be able to put himself back together. For now, he allowed himself to cry knowing that he was safe with the two people he loved most.

 

* * *

 

 

"I'm sorry," Harry said, fidgeting with his bookbag strap and his cheeks flashing crimson.

"That's the sixth time you've said that," Hermione told him, wearing an amused smile. "And this will be the sixth time I tell you that there's no reason for you to apologize, Harry. You needed that."

"Yeah," Ron agreed as they turned a corner in the direction of the Gryffindor common room. Fortunately, they had their last period free. "I knew something was up, as there were bars on your window last year, but honestly --"

Ron did a good job at distracting Harry from his breakdown in the cupboard by going on about how Uncle Vernon and the Dursleys were absolute gits, and Hermione didn't even reprimand Ron for using foul language, which Harry appreciated.

"Everything that comes out of his fat mouth is a load of rubbish," Ron finished with a frown, his freckled face scrunched up in dislike.

Harry grinned and turned away from Ron. "Fortuna Major."

The Fat Lady's portrait swung open and the Gryffindors in the common room went silent and looked at the trio. Clearly, word had already spread. Ron and Hermione rushed Harry over to the boys' dormitory steps and Hermione bid them goodbye, heading the other direction as Harry and Ron climbed up the steps. Neville had been sitting on the side of his four poster and when Harry and Ron entered he looked up at them. They exchanged a few awkward looks and then Harry set his bag down next to his bed.

Out of the blue, Neville blurted out quickly in a high, squeaky voice, "You don't have to talk about him, but I hope you know that what that man said was all wrong!"

Harry turned around in surprise and catched Ron's eye, seeing he was just as bewildered. Neville was completely red and looked sheepish. "Thanks, Neville," Harry smiled.

Neville's shoulders relaxed and he returned a small smile. He walked past them and down the stairs in a more confident manner.

Ron fell against his bed and Harry laid down onto his own, staring up at the ceiling. He was exhausted and very grateful that Ron didn't want to talk about the Dursleys anymore. Ron didn't pity him or make him feel broken, but Harry had had enough of his muggle relatives for a day. Which is why he was dreading going to dinner for the feast, where sure enough Malfoy would be spreading the boggart story like wildfire.

"Exploding snap?"

Harry turned onto his side and looked at Ron, who was holding the game in his hand and looking back at him with a hopeful expression.

Harry grinned. "Sure, I'll beat you," Harry got up and sat himself down on Ron's sheets.

"You wish," Ron smirked and began to set up the game.

Harry pushed the boggart encounter aside in his mind and enjoyed his free hour with Ron.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I want to say thank you for all the love and support you've been giving so early on in this series!  
> I really appreciate all the feedback I've received. Over 200 hits and 19 kudos at the moment! More than I expected!  
> I've been on a writing spree recently. I even wrote some during school!  
> I've just been really excited to get back to writing, so here is chapter 3. It's longer than 1 and 2!  
> Thank you for supporting me, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!  
> ═══════════  
> ✧ January 25, 2019 ✧

╔══════════════╗

_**─ Chapter 3** _

╚══════════════╝

 

"Rubbish!" Harry shouted as Ron cracked a smug smirk after beating Harry for the third time.

"We ought to get going, the feast should be starting soon," Ron said.

This only soured Harry's mood further. He felt a fish clench in his stomach, thinking about how he'd have to face even more looks from everyone.

The two packed up exploding snap and Ron walked over to the staircase. When Harry didn't follow him, he turned and saw Harry looking at the floor. He went back and sat next to Harry on the bed.

"Listen, 'Mione and I won't let anyone bother you," Ron told him with a determined stare.

Harry felt sick. He didn't want to have all those people staring at him. The Dursleys had always been his secret. But now they all know.

As if Ron had heard his thoughts, he said, "They won't know who he is, you only told us who he is. We'll be there with you, Harry."

Harry looked up and gave him a weak smile. "Okay. Thanks."

"Now c'mon," Ron got up from the bed and Harry followed suit. They saw Hermione near the crackling fire, waiting to join them.

He grinned at her and she beamed back at him. "Let's go?"

"Yeah," Harry said, and the trio set off out the portrait hole and down the many staircases.

They neared the entrance to the Great Hall and Harry felt nauseous. He wondered if he'd even be able to eat. He told himself that he could get through this. Show that he's stronger than the Dursleys. It was getting increasingly difficult to tell himself this as the talking in the Great Hall grew louder.

The three of them were finally in the front entrance. Many voices went quiet as they stared at him. Ron and Hermione escorted him to the Gryffindor table and Harry tried hard not to look at anyone's face.

Harry took his seat in front of Ron and Hermione and conversations started up again. He could feel the gazes of nearby Gryffindors and his face burned as if they were shooting lazers through him with their eyes.

"Shove off," Ron snarled at a first year who was craning his neck to look at Harry. The boy's eyes widened and he and his friends pulled back.

The great hall went silent as Professor Dumbledore approached the podium. With a simple "Let the feast begin", miles of grand food appeared on the house tables. Ron grabbed turkey and mashed potatoes wildly, piling food onto his plate.

"Harry." He looked into Hermione's deep mocha eyes. "Eat, you'll feel better," she told him, sounding an awful lot like a mother.

He took a small portion of turkey and placed it on his golden plate. He looked at it with distaste; it must've been the first time he had ever not wanted to eat at the feast. He glanced up and met eyes with a Hufflepuff girl who was staring at him. He immediately broke eye contact, chugged some pumpkin juice, and instantly regretted it as the sugar only added to his nausea.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around on the bench, meeting eyes with a short brunette Ravenclaw boy.

"Everyone's talking about the Walrus Man," he stated nonchalantly. "Who is he?"

He heard Ron snort behind him. "The Walrus Man?" Harry repeated, unable to hold back an amused grin.

"Yes, your boggart." The boy said. "Can you tell us about him?"

Harry stumbled on his words. "Uhm, well -- er, you see --"

"It's not hard. Just open your mouth and speak," The boy said impatiently.

"How about you shut your mouth, you slimy git?" Ron said angrily.

The boy huffed and strode off. Harry turned to Ron. "Thanks for that," Harry grinned.

Ron's ears went red and he mumbled, "It's nothing." But he still returned a wide grin.

Harry glanced at Hermione who smiled as well. She wasn't even mad that Ron insulted a first year. In fact, she wore an almost defiant expression too.

Miraculously, Harry's appetite returned in a matter of seconds.

 

* * *

 

 

Ron and Hermione were true to their word and acted as excellent bodyguards. From the moment he came down to the common room in the morning, they were by his side. Whenever someone sent Harry a look, they always made sure the gawker received a threatening stare as well. Harry immensely appreciated this. He couldn't take the spotlight all on his own. He'd never been able to.

It seemed all of Hogwarts was theorizing about who the Walrus Man was. The trio still chuckled every time they heard someone reference Uncle Vernon by that nickname. Harry pictured Uncle Vernon's face if he heard about the "Walrus Man" and smirked. There were also some ridiculous theories that they overheard about who Harry's boggart was.

"Yeah, you're terrified of your old muggle school janitor," Ron chortled. "What did he do, beat you with a mop?"

Harry and Ron laughed loudly on the red velvet common room couches. A few Gryffindors looked over at them with cocked eyebrows.

"I'd like to chat with whoever comes up with these," Ron said, wiping tears from his eyes.

Hermione, who didn't find this as funny, sighed on the armchair and stood up. "We need to get to the dungeons now. Potions."

Laughter quickly left their faces.

Harry never liked Potions class, but he especially dreaded it now as Snape had most likely overheard rumors about Harry's boggart. He dragged his feet down the stairs and through the gloomy, cold dungeons.

They put their bags down and stood behind their desks in the dim Potions classroom. Students filed in and snuck glances at Harry before they settled in their spots. Ron and Hermione watched them attentively. The Gryffindors had Potions with the Slytherins today; Malfoy smirked at Harry from afar and Harry glared back through the dark.

At last, Professor Snape glided through the door and to the board, robes billowing behind him. He stopped and turned to face the class, looking at each student with a challenging look. He rested on Harry's face for an extra second and Harry scowled back at him.

"This potion takes a half hour to produce, so there will be no wasted time today," Snape told the class. "We will be brewing the Girding Potion. Can anyone tell me the effects of this potion?"

Hermione wiggled her fingers in the air in desperation. Snape slowly looked around the classroom for another hand, but there was no other. So he decided to make Harry a fool in front of the class as usual.

"Mr. Potter."

Harry looked up from his desk. This didn't surprise him. Snape liked to humiliate him the best he could every Potions lesson.

"Yes?"

"Are you as deaf as you are incompetent?"

The Slytherins sniggered and Snape's lip curled in satisfaction. "Effects of the Girding Potion. Tell us."

"Er -- it tickles you?"

"As always, Mr. Potter thinks he is funny," Snape sighed. "When he is not."

Snape waited an unnecessary long amount of time for the Slytherins to stop laughing. He sneered before he at last gave in to his need of a volunteer.

"Miss Granger."

"The Girding Potion gives the consumer extra endurance," Hermione explained. "It also emits a rather foul odor."

"Extracted right from the book 'Magical Drafts and Potions'. In this class I expect talent, not memory skills," Snape scoffed.

Hermione's hand fell with a sad thump. Harry heard Ron grumble under his breath and Harry glowered at Snape.

"This potion should not be more difficult than talking to a walrus," Snape said, and then looked directly into Harry's emerald eyes. "Because some people seem to struggle with that."

Ron leered at Snape and Hermione had to restrain him, turning around in her seat in front of them and pushing Ron back. Snape's eyes glittered with malice; he didn't break eye contact with Harry. Harry stared right back defiantly. 'I won't let you get to me', Harry's vibrant green eyes said. After what seemed like hours, Snape turned to the board. He flourished his wand and the piece of chalk began to write the instructions.

Hermione went straight to work, her bushy hair swishing this way and that as she moved around. Harry walked over to the ingredients shelf and took a set of fairy wings back to his cauldron. He dropped the wings into the water and turned the heat on. Once the water became a nice shade of turquoise, he returned to the ingredient shelf and began to collect doxy eggs. He was starting to think that maybe he could get through this lesson without any more humiliations.

This delusion was shot down half an hour later, when Harry had completed the third to last step of adding dragonfly thoraxes and started to stir the potion until it became blue. Snape stopped in front of Harry's cauldron.

"Mr. Potter."

Harry looked up. "Yes?"

"Does it say anywhere on the board to stir?"

Harry looked at the board and his heart fell as he realized that it only said to heat it until it was blue.

"No."

"Then why did you stir your potion?"

Harry didn't reply. Hermione was looking back at them anxiously, as she had already finished her potion.

"Always so entitled, Potter," Snape sneered, and then with a wave of his wand the contents of Harry's cauldron vanished.

Harry stared in its depths where all his hard work used to be. He kept his rage inside and looked back up at Snape with a stony expression. Hermione went pale and looked like she had seen Snape murder someone. Ron's face was red with anger.

"Restart." Snape ordered, but no more than a second passed before the bell rang and echoed against the walls. Snape smirked. "I suppose you will have to finish up in detention tonight. Ten o'clock."

Furiously, Harry snatched his bag and followed Ron and Hermione out of the dungeons.

"That nasty little --" Ron used a particularly nasty word that made Hermione gasp and slap him with her bag. "Ouch! Hermione, you can't say that walrus comment and wiping his cauldron clean was a form of 'strict teaching methods'."

"No, that was uncalled for," she agreed.

"And I have to go back for detention," Harry groaned. "What bloody for?"

"He's a right git, Harry, I'm telling you," Ron said.

Harry and Ron complained about Snape together as the three of them walked onto the grounds and down to the Herbology greenhouses.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry felt Hermione's hand on his shoulder and he looked up from his Transfiguration essay.

"It's almost time for detention," Hermione told him.

Ron gave Harry a sympathetic look and Harry set his quill and paper down. Throwing his bookbag over his shoulder, he climbed out of the portrait hole and walked through the silent Hogwarts corridors and into the shadow filled dungeons. It took him a considerable amount of time to walk down the many flights of stairs and through the mazelike dungeon hallways, so he finally clicked open the Potions classroom door a few minutes past ten o'clock.

"Late." Snape announced as Harry entered the room and set down his bag. Snape didn't look up from his work as he said, "I will not put the instructions on the board. You will remember what I told you earlier."

"But sir, if I didn't get it right then, how do you expect --"

"Silence!" Snape whipped his head up, black eyes flashing. "You will do your work in complete silence."

Harry scowled and retrieved the ingredients he could remember from the shelves. It was a long and tiring half hour of sweaty foreheads and sore arms as he struggled to remember the procedure, let alone do the steps correctly. The fire heating up the cauldron added an excruciating heat to the room and Harry wiped his soaked brow with his sleeve. His already uncontrollable hair went mad in the heat and he brushed away frizzy strands of hair out of his eyes. As he concluded the instructions he remembered, the liquid was not a shimmering gold like he remembered it was supposed to be. It was a murky green slime that swirled and bubbled in the cauldron.

Snape noticed that Harry had stopped working and got up to review his concoction.

"Dismal," Snape clicked his tongue. "Horrendous."

Harry fought back the urge to retort and stayed defiantly silent as Snape burned a hole into his forehead with his gaze.

"A proper Girding Potion will produce endurance in the drinker. This abomination will not do so," Snape said, and then he smirked with yellow teeth. "But perhaps if you take it you might last longer than two seconds the next time you face your boggart."

Harry lost it. In a blind rage, he swiped his vile off the table and it shattered. The potion exploded out of the bottle and formed a small puddle on the ground.

"You must control yourself, Potter!" Snape yelled and backed away from the desk.

"YOU'VE NO IDEA!" Harry shouted at him, trying to stop shaking. "You've no idea what it's like to be with him!"

"What I do know is that you're a coward!" Snape snarled at him. "A worthless COWARD!"

These words struck Harry and he froze. Uncle Vernon yelled in his head, 'You are worthless. You will never be any good for anyone!' His uncle's face contorted in contempt and hatred... he was so big, and Harry was so small...

He took in a shuddering breath and then he was back in the Potions classroom. Snape was screeching at him to get out. Harry ripped his bag from the desk and ran out the door in a fury. His feet were leading him up the stairs, slamming loudly against the tile. He sprinted down the corridor leading to the Fat Lady's portrait, bookbag swinging on his arm.

"Fortuna Major!" He gasped at the Fat Lady and the portrait opened to the empty common room. He climbed up the dormitory steps, breathing heavily.

He blasted through the door and Ron, the only boy awake in the room, looked at him in bewilderment as Harry rushed over to his bed and collapsed against it. It was quiet for a few moments except for the snores from Neville, Seamus and Dean.

"Harry?" Ron finally said.

"Snape's a git," Harry said quietly.

"A slimeball," Ron agreed.

"He doesn't know.." Harry mumbled, folding his arms and staring at the drawn curtains of Neville's bed.

"Did he say something about your uncle?" Ron asked, filling in the blanks.

Ron took Harry's silence as a yes. Ron scoffed and shook his head.

"He's an idiot if he thinks you're weaker than that walrus," Ron said. "You've taken on a basilisk by yourself, mate. All he can do is grunt."

Harry looked to Ron's frowning face staring back at him, orange eyebrows furrowed. Then, Harry started to laugh. And laugh. And laugh. Then Ron started laughing as well, and they were both clutching their stomachs because they were laughing so ferociously it was painful. It woke the other three boys up and they stared at Harry and Ron in confusion as they rolled around on their beds. The laughing was infectious, and it soon spread to them too, even though they didn't know what was funny.

Harry and Ron shared a laugh that night.

And it was absolutely perfect.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!  
> On Saturday I took the day to just enjoy the weekend (AKA watch YouTube all day lmao), and yesterday I started writing this chapter but couldn't finish because I had homework to do. But I'm finally back with a new chapter!  
> In this chapter I follow some things from the Prisoner of Askaban, but I have changed some parts for the benefit of my story.  
> Enjoy!  
> ═══════════  
> ✧ January 28, 2019 ✧

╔══════════════╗

  _ **─ Chapter 4**_

╚══════════════╝

 

For weeks it was very difficult for Harry to walk through the corridors of Hogwarts.

He could barely even make it to class without being bombarded by two or more students inquiring about the Walrus Man. Ron and Hermione always sent them off (Ron was more threatening when he did this than Hermione was), but they couldn't be with him all the time. Harry found himself hiding away in his dormitory, playing games with Ron and Hermione or doing homework. Hermione had been coming up to the boys' dormitory more frequently to be with Harry and Ron, as Harry didn't like to be in the public's eye for long. Even the common room was dangerous now, where a pesky Gryffindor could approach him at any time.

This continued through Halloween and November. Harry was seldom found out of his dormitory without Ron or Hermione. After many tiresome weeks of warding off impertinent students, the second trip of the year to Hogsmeade had arrived. Uncle Vernon hadn't signed Harry's permission slip, as he had blown up Aunt Marge, and Professor McGonagall had declined his request to sign the paper, so Harry had to follow Ron and Hermione to the entrance of the castle and not join them as they left with all the other students.

However, before they left him, they turned around to face him with somber expressions.

"We'll bring you back some sweets," Hermione said sadly.

"Yeah, there's loads more types of sweets in Honeydukes than on the train's trolley," Ron told him.

"Thanks," Harry said with a small smile. "I'll see you guys later."

He quite wanted to walk out the Hogwarts doors with his friends, talking and laughing as they explored Hogsmeade. But he held his smile, happy for his friends. They didn't move and stared back at him wistfully.

"It's fine, really. Go have fun," Harry assured them.

Hesitantly, Ron and Hermione left him and Harry watched as they entered the line of students being checked by Mr. Filch. He walked up the stairs leading back into the castle. He longed to be by their side, eating sweets and drinking butterbeer, but instead he was approaching the staircases to go back to the Gryffindor dormitory. At least there would be less kids here to bother him.

"Psst -- Harry!"

He stopped in his tracks. He recognized the two voices. Grateful it wasn't a harasser, he turned to see Fred and George peering at him from behind a statue of a hump-backed, one-eyed witch.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked. "Why aren't you going to Hogsmeade?"

"We've come to give you a bit of festive cheer before we go," Fred said, winking. "Come here..."

He gestured to an empty class to the left, and Harry skeptically followed Fred and George inside. George closed the door behind them and turned to Harry, beaming.

"An early Christmas present."

Harry pulled something from inside his cloak and set it on one of the desks. It was a large, square, worn piece of parchment. It was blank, and Harry immediately suspected Fred and George were pulling a joke on him.

"What's that supposed to be?" He asked.

"This, Harry, is the secret of our success," George said, patting it fondly.

"It's quite hard giving this to you," Fred said, "but we decided your need is greater than ours."

"We know it by heart," George said. "We bequeath it to you. We don't need it anymore."

"What do I need with a bit of old parchment?"

"A bit of old parchment!" Fred exclaimed in horror, grimacing as if Harry had told them he'd murdered someone. "Explain, George."

"Well, when we were in our first year -- young, carefree, innocent --"

Harry snorted.

"-- well, more innocent than now -- we upset dear old Filch."

"We let off a Dungbomb in the corridor --"

"So he hauled us off to is office, and as usual, started threatening us --"

"-- detention --"

"-- disembowelment --"

"-- and we couldn't help noticing a drawer in his filing cabinet marked Confiscated and Highly Dangerous."

"Don't tell me," Harry said, grinning.

"Well, what would you have done?" Fred said. "George caused a diversion by dropping another Dungbomb, I opened the drawer and snatched -- this."

"It's not as bad as it sounds, you know," George told him. "We don't reckon Filch ever discovered how to work it. He must've suspected what it was, though, or he wouldn't have confiscated it."

"So you know how to work it?"

"Oh yes," Fred smirked. "This beauty's taught us more than all the teachers in this school."

"You're winding me up," Harry said, looking at the parchment hungrily.

"Oh, are we?"

George took out his wand, tapped the parchment, and said, " _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good._ "

At once, thin ink lines began to spread across the page from the point that George's wand had touched. They joined together, crisscrossed, and expanded into every corner of the parchment; words began to blossom across the top. Curly, green words, that proclaimed:

 **Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs**  
**Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers**  
**are proud to present**  
**THE MARAUDER'S MAP**

The map showed every detail of the Hogwarts castle and grounds. But the truly fascinating thing was the small ink dots moving around it, each labeled with a name in tiny writing. In awe, Harry bent over it. A labeled dot in the top left corner showed Professor Dumbledore pacing his study; Mrs. Norris was guarding the second floor; Peeves the Poltergeist was currently bouncing around the trophy room. Harry's eyes traveled the familiar corridors, and then he noticed something else.

The map showed passages he had never entered. Many of them seemed to lead --

"Right into Hogsmeade," Fred said, tracing one of them with his finger. "Seven in all. Now, Filch knows these four" -- he pointed at them -- "but we're sure we're the only one who know about these two. Don't bother with the one behind the fourth floor mirror. We used it all last winter, but it's caved in now -- completely blocked. We don't reckon anyone's ever used this one. But this one right here, this leads into the cellar of Honeydukes. We've used it loads of times. And as you might've noticed, the entrance is right outside this room, through this one-eyed crone's hump."

"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs," sighed George. "We owe them so much."

"Noble men, working tirelessly to help a new generation of lawbreakers," Fred said solemnly.

"Right," George said briskly. "Don't forget to wipe it after you're done with it--"

"-- or anyone can read it," Fred said.

"Just tap again and say, _'Mischief managed!'_ And it'll go blank."

"Young Harry," Fred said, sounding remarkably like Percy, "mind you behave yourself."

They left the room, smirking in a satisfied sort of way.

Harry stood in place, gazing at the marvelous map. He watched Mrs. Norris turn left and then pause to inspect someone on the floor. It was a miracle... he'd be able to avoid any students demanding to know about the Walrus Man... he could go to Hogsmeade with Ron and Hermione and see Honeydukes in its glory...

But as he stood there, flooded with excitement, he remembered something he had once heard Mr. Weasley say.

'Never trust anything that can think for itself, if you can't see where it keeps its brain.'

This map could fall under one of those dangerous magical objects Mr. Weasley warned against.. but, Harry reasoned, he only wanted to go to Hogsmeade, he didn't want to steal or attack anyone... and Fred and George had been using it for years without a scratch...

He traced the secret passage to Honeydukes with his finger, thinking.

Once he had made up his mind, he rolled the map up, stuffed it inside his robes, and headed to the door of the classroom. Cracking it open a few inches, he looked through the hole. Nobody was outside. Cautiously, he edged out of the room and behind the statue of the witch. He pulled out the map again and saw, to his astonishment, a new ink figure labeled Harry Potter. His little ink self tapped the statue with a miniature wand. Harry quickly flourished his real wand and tapped the statue. When nothing happened, he looked back at the map and saw a tiny speech bubble that held the word 'Dissendium'.

" _Dissendium!_ " Harry whispered, tapping the stone witch once again.

The statue's hump opened, leaving a thin, gaping hole. Harry took one final quick glance up and down the corridor, and then tucked the map away again, and hoisted himself into hole and pushed himself forward. He slid a long way down the stone slide, and then landed on cold, damp earth. He stood up and took in his surroundings -- there was not much to see however, as it was pitch black. He muttered, "Lumos!" and saw that he was in a narrow, low passageway. He raised the map, tapped it with his wand's tip, and said, " _Mischief managed!_ ". It went blank; he folded it carefully, tucked it inside his robes, and then, heart jumping in his chest, he set off down the passageway.

It was a lengthy journey through the musky, earthy path. He walked for what felt like days, but the thought that he might be with Ron and Hermione, browsing for sweets in Honeydukes sustained him. Suddenly, he felt the passage begin to rise. Harry sped up, his face hot, his feet very cold. A few minutes later, he came to the foot of some worn stone steps, which rose out of sight above him. Careful to not make any noise, he began to climb. He went up, up, up, losing count of how many steps he'd taken. Then, without warning, his head hit something hard.

It seemed to be a trapdoor. He massaged his head and listened for any sounds above him. When he didn't hear any, he very slowly pushed the trapdoor open and peered over the edge.

He was in a cellar, full of wooden crates and boxes. He pulled himself out of the trapdoor and replaced it -- it blended so perfectly with the dusty floor it was nearly impossible to tell it was there.

He crept slowly toward the wooden staircase that led upstairs. He could definitely hear voices now and a tinkle of a bell as a door opened and shut.

Suddenly, he heard a door much closer open; somebody was going to come downstairs.

"Get another box of Jelly Slugs, they've nearly cleaned us out --" A woman's voice said.

Harry leapt behind an enormous crate and waited for the footsteps to pass down the staircase. He heard the man shifting boxes against the opposite wall. He might not get another chance --

Silently, he dashed out from his hiding place and climbed the stairs, passing the shiny bald head which was buried in a box. He reached the door at the top of the stairs, slipped through it, and entered behind the counter of Honeydukes. He ducked, crept past the counter, and straightened up.

Honeydukes was so crowded with Hogwarts students that no one even noticed Harry. He edged among them, looking around, and suppressed a laugh as he imagined Dudley's piggy face if he could see where Harry was now.

There were shelves upon shelves of the most delicious looking sweets imaginable. Creamy chunks of nougat, pink squares of coconut ice, fat, honey-colored toffees; hundreds of different kinds of chocolate; a large barrel of Every Flavor Beans, and another of Fizzing Whizbees, the levitating sherbert balls Ron had once mentioned; along another wall were the "Special Effects" sweets: Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, strange, splintery Toothflossing Stringmints, tiny black Pepper Imps, Ice Mice, peppermint creams shaped like toads, fragile sugar-spun quills, and exploding bonbons.

He squeezed himself through a crowd of sixth years and saw a sign hanging in the farthest corner of the shop, Unusual Tastes. Ron and Hermione stood underneath it, examining a tray of blood flavored lollipops. Harry sneaked up behind them.

"Harry won't want one of these, they're for vampires, I expect," Hermione was saying.

"How about these?" Ron said, shoving a jar of Cockroach Clusters under Hermione's nose.

"Definitely not," Harry said.

Ron nearly dropped the jar.

"Harry!" Hermione squealed. "How are you here? What -- how -- ?"

"Wow! You've learned to Apparate!" Ron said, looking impressed.

"'Course I haven't," Harry said. He dropped his voice so the group of sixth years couldn't hear him and told them about the Marauder's Map.

"Why didn't they give it to me?" Ron said, outraged. "I'm their brother!"

"Harry isn't going to keep it!" Hermione said as if it weren't a question. "He's going to hand it into Professor McGonagall."

"No I'm not!" Harry frowned.

"Are you mad?" Ron stared at Hermione. "Hand in something that amazing?"

"If I hand it in, I'll have to rat Fred and George out!"

"You're forgetting Sirius Black," Hermione hissed. "He could use a passage to get into the castle! The teachers have got to know."

Harry realized that he HAD forgotten about Sirius Black for a while. Everything with the boggart had taken his mind from the mass murdered. But he quickly said, "He can't get in through a passage. There are seven tunnels, and Fred and George reckon Filch knows four of them. And the other three -- one of them's cave in, one's got the Whomping Willow over it, and I just came through -- well, it's really hard to see the entrance to it down in the cellar, so unless he knew it was there..."

He hesitated. What if Black did know about the passage?

Ron, however, quickly corrected this by pointing to a notice on the inside of the sweetshop door.

 **BY ORDER OF**  
**THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC**  
**Customers are reminded that until further notice, de-**  
**mentors will be patrolling the streets of Hogsmeade**  
**ever night after sundown. This measure has been put**  
**in place for the safety of Hogsmeade residents and will**  
**be lifted upon the recapture of Sirius Black. It is there-**  
**fore advisable that you complete your shopping well**  
**before nightfall.**  
**Merry Christmas!**

"See?" Ron said. "I'd like to see Black try and break into Honeydukes with dementors swarming the village. Anyway, the Honeydukes owners would hear a break in. They live over the shop!"

"Yes, but -- but --" Hermione moaned, struggling to come up with an issue. "Look, Harry shouldn't be coming into Hogsmeade. He hasn't got a signed form! If anyone finds out, he'll be in all sorts of trouble! It's not nightfall yet -- what if Sirius turns up today? Now?"

"He'd have a job spotting Harry in this," Ron said, nodding towards the windows covered in thick, swirling snow. "Oh, come on, 'Mione, it's Christmas. Give Harry a break."

Hermione bit her lip.

"You're going to report me?" Harry said with a grin.

"Oh, of course not, but honestly, Harry --"

"Seen the Fizzing Whizbees, Harry?" Ron asked, grabbing him and leading him over to the barrel.

Harry enjoyed his first trip in Hogsmeade with Ron and Hermione; they drank butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks, which seemed to warm every chilly part of his body and devoured their assortments of sweets as they walked the cobblestone trails of the magical street. It was so crowded that Harry went unnoticed as he walked with Ron and Hermione. It was a truly spectacular place, with its miles of fluffy snow and rows of Bavarian styled buildings. They had been so lost in a trance of unworldly euphoria that before they knew it, the time had come to return to the castle. Harry decided that it was safest to take the secret passage back to Hogwarts, and bid Ron and Hermione goodbye as they parted ways.

He carefully snuck past the Honeydukes workers and dropped down through the dusty trapdoor. He again journeyed through the earthy, narrow hallway, his breathing loud in his ears.

At long last, he pulled himself up through the stone witch's hump and closed it behind him, muttering the spell to seal it. He walked past the statue and continued on his way back to Gryffindor tower, wondering what game he and Ron would play before dinner.

His thoughts were interrupted by a voice. "Harry?"

His body froze. Wary of an unwanted student asking about the Walrus Man, he slowly turned on his feet and stopped once he saw who the speaker was. It was Professor Lupin, standing outside of his office.

"Would you mind dropping in for a bit? I'll only be a couple minutes," he said.

Harry didn't speak for a few seconds. Was he going to make him talk about his uncle? Because Harry wanted to do anything but that. "Sure," Harry managed with a dry throat, deciding that it was best he did what a Professor asked of him.

Professor Lupin smiled warmly. "Come in," he stepped aside, leaving the doorway open.

Cautiously, Harry walked inside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and heard Professor Lupin close the door behind them. He turned back, awaiting instructions.

"Here, let's draw up a seat at my desk," Professor Lupin told him, walking down the rows of desks.

Harry dragged a chair to the end of the room as Professor Lupin sat behind his desk. Harry took a seat as well, his heart thumping against his head anxiously.

"We haven't had a chance to speak to each other in your past Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons since October," Professor Lupin finally said.

Harry paused before nodding, suspecting what the subject matter was going to become.

"I've been wanting to talk to you about the boggarts lesson, but I've been ill recently and haven't had the chance to talk just us two."

Harry's heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. This was exactly what he didn't want to do.

Professor Lupin took a breath and closed his eyes; Harry expected he was trying to find the words to say. All of the sudden, he said quickly, "I never meant for the lesson to be harmful in any way, and if facing your boggart caused you any discomfort, I apologize."

Harry shook his head. "It's fine, Professor, really."

They sat in silence for a few beats, Professor Lupin looking at Harry doubtfully. He stared so intently as if he could perhaps find a secret hiding in Harry's face if he looked in the right places.

"I -- I had my worries when you came into my class for the boggarts lesson," Professor Lupin said slowly. "You see, I assumed that your boggart would take the form of Voldemort."

A heavy air pressed against the two of them during Professor Lupin's pause.

"I was not expecting that -- man, that appeared before the class," he continued. "Yelling such horrid things... Harry, if you do not mind me asking, who was that man?"

Harry hesitated, his head swarmed with unpleasant memories of his time with Uncle Vernon. He must have waited too long, for Professor Lupin hastily said,

"No, I'm sorry, it is not right of me to ask. Yes, I shouldn't have intruded --"

"He was my uncle," Harry answered. "Back in Privet Drive."

Professor Lupin looked at him in surprise. His face promptly morphed into disbelief. "I never imagined... of course, I didn't expect them to be pleasant, but..."

They simply looked at each other again for what seemed like hours, searching for something hidden in each other's faces. Abruptly, Professor Lupin ripped open one of the drawers in his desk and rummaged through it. He withdrew a worn, leather photo album. Professor Lupin opened it and flipped its many pages. Harry glimpsed small movements from the pictures as each appeared and instantly vanished. Finally, Professor Lupin stopped halfway through and turned it around for Harry to see.

The picture was labelled 'February, 1978' and featured two people. The first was a bit taller than the other, and had unruly black hair that stuck up in the back. He wore glasses in front of his warm chocolate eyes and had his arm around the waist of the girl next to him. She had striking red hair that fell to her waist and lively emerald eyes. They stood in a fully red room with a bright fireplace before two couches. The boy wore a huge, goofy grin and the girl bore a brilliant smile. Harry instantly recognized the two and his heart swelled. The boy was identical to Harry, except Harry had the girl's striking green eyes.

His parents.

"James and Lily," Professor Lupin sighed, smiling at the picture fondly. "The best friends you could have."

"You were friends with my parents?" Harry asked eagerly.

Professor Lupin looked back at him and his smile widened. "Yes, yes I was."

Harry grinned and then looked back at the picture, eating up every part of it.

"James was quite the prankster, along with.. with our group of friends," Professor Lupin recounted, looking happier than Harry had ever seen him. "Lily hated him for it. But, obviously, he changed his act. In our seventh year.. for her."

Professor Lupin went through the many photographs, telling Harry the story behind each one. There was one boy that was almost always with his dad, who looked strangely familiar, but Professor Lupin never gave a name to him. Instead, Harry savored hearing stories about his parents and looking at them in all kinds of situations. His heart ached with the longing to be with them, yet it also seemed it might explode with joy.

After reciting a time when Harry's dad had tried to impress his mum during a Quidditch match, Professor Lupin looked at the time.

"Oh, the feast is near already," he said, with a sadder tone than before.

Harry, disappointed that he couldn't look through the photos anymore, made to get up from his chair.

"Listen, Harry," Professor Lupin interjected. Harry settled in his seat again. "I wanted to show you them because... those despicable Dursleys aren't your true family. Not your Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, or cousin Dudley. These people," he pressed his palm against the photo album. "They're your real family."

Harry looked at Professor Lupin and felt a sudden surge of warmth towards the man. He wasn't just his Professor now -- he had been friends with his parents. He'd talked with them, laughed with them.

"Thanks, Professor," Harry smiled at him, standing up.

"Of course. Feel free to come back any time," Professor Lupin told him.

Harry couldn't wipe the grin off his face as he left the classroom and walked up the moving staircases to the Gryffindor common room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a small break for a few reasons:  
> I had to figure out what I wanted to happen next in this story, first of all. But the main reason I didn't write for a while is because on Thursday I got braces on my lower teeth. I've had braces on my top teeth for months now, but I haven't had them on my lower ones until now. On Friday, the pain was so unbearable I just couldn't go to school. I took that day off, took a lot of medicine, ate a lot of ice cream, spent time with my mom at the mall, and today I'm currently feeling a lot better and am enjoying my Saturday!  
> -  
> Anyways, here is the next chapter! I'm glad that I've come up with a plan for the next few chapters and they should be much easier to write.  
> Also, I left a fun cliffhanger for you at the end. ;)  
> Enjoy!  
> ═══════════  
> ✧ February 2, 2019 ✧

╔══════════════╗

  _ **─ Chapter 5**_ ****

╚══════════════╝

 

Harry could barely sleep that night. No matter how hard he tried to keep his mind blank, a rush of visions would crash in out of nowhere. Images of his parents; their friends, their family, their lives. Visions of bright red hair and dark, unruly hair. They overwhelmed his head until he felt them in his chest -- his heart ached with longing. The two were just out of reach; they fell out of sight the moment Harry got close to them.

During breakfast, his eyes rested half shut and his body felt heavier than usual. His thoughts kept drifting from what Ron and Hermione were saying to him and back to his night visions.. He lazily dragged his spoon through his oatmeal while he struggled to reach his parents; Hermione was rambling about something Harry forgot.

Hermione frowned and impatiently shrieked, "Harry!"

His spoon fell out of his bowl as he jumped. "What?" He asked, tone slightly angry. He was nearly there.

"You're not listening," Hermione scolded him. "I've repeated myself four times. Did you get enough sleep?"

Harry didn't answer immediately, taken aback by the abrupt change of subject. "What? What makes you think that?"

Ron snorted from the other end of the table and Harry turned to him. "You've got huge bags under your eyes, mate," he said.

"What's more important than what I'm saying?" Hermione demanded.

"Everything's more important than the numerology of Arithmancy," Ron said. Hermione's eyes shot daggers at him.

Harry hesitated. Should he keep his experience he had after Hogsmeade to himself? He decided against it, that it couldn't hurt to share it with the two people he trusted most, and told them about his conversation with Professor Lupin and how his dad had been a prankster up until seventh year, when he became Head Boy and earned his mum's heart.

"Oh Harry," Hermione smiled at him. "That's great!"

"Wish your dad could've told me how he did it," Ron said with admiration. Harry thought he saw Ron's eyes flicker towards Hermione for half a second.

"And Professor Lupin was one of my dad's best mates when they were at Hogwarts," Harry added.

"Professor Lupin? Devising pranks with your dad?" Ron asked in astonishment. "Wow!"

Hermione looked appalled that a Professor had ever gotten up to mischief and rule breaking.

Harry withheld a smirk.

 

* * *

 

 

The Marauder's Map helped significantly as Harry made his way through the castle. Before entering a corridor, he would check that the map showed it was sufficiently empty and then get to his destination smoothly. The amount of interrogations was slowly decreasing, but he was not as lucky with his daydreams about his parents. He constantly dozed off in his classes, and struggled to keep up with the lectures.

Ever since his explosion in detention, Snape had treated him with extra malevolence than usual, which was saying a lot as Snape always treated Harry particularly nasty.

"Mr. Potter, I will not beg you to spare some of your precious time and pay attention," Snape interrupted Harry's thoughts. Harry glared at him; he had almost reached them. He heard Malfoy's snickering in the howls of laughter from the Slytherins and his anger increased.

He faced this issue in other classes as well.

"Mr. Potter, do look at me when I am teaching," Professor McGonagall told him, sounding extraordinarily like Hermione. "You don't want to fail the upcoming Animgaus test, do you?"

Harry shook his head, resting it on his hand grumpily. All he wanted to do was have Professor Lupin tell him more stories about his parents and their lives.

However, Professor Lupin soon fell ill again, diminishing any chance at asking to see the photo album again. Harry entered December in a torturous state of the mystery of his parents lingering inches from his fingertips. Curiosity itched at him at all times. He desperately reached out, grasping for them, but he could never reach them and the itching followed him everywhere he went.

He was distracted even during Quidditch practices, and Oliver Wood was not happy. Harry forced himself to focus on flying, but it was noticeable that the visions were affecting his performance. To keep Wood from going into hysterics, Harry, with every fiber in his body, directed his thoughts to Quidditch and only Quidditch. He hoped that it would suffice for the game against Hufflepuff, that was approaching quickly.

The day before the match, Wood had cornered him and was practically shouting at him different tactics for the game tomorrow. Harry had finally shoved him off ten minutes after his next class had started, and he dashed to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. After confirming that the corridor was vacant with his map, he entered the room.

"Sorry I'm late, Professor Lupin, I--"

He stumbled to a halt.

Snape stood at the end of the room.

"We started the lesson ten minutes ago, Mr. Potter. That will be ten points from Gryffindor. Sit down."

Harry had forgotten in his hurry that Professor Lupin was sick again. He stood in place, misery falling in on him.

"Sit down, or that will be another fifty," Snape said more firmly.

Harry dragged himself to his chair and sat down.

"As I was saying before Potter interrupted, Professor Lupin has not left any records of what you have covered so far--"

"Please, sir, we've done boggarts, Red Caps, kappas, and grindylows," Hermione told him quickly, "and we're about to start--"

"Be quiet," Snape snapped. "I did not ask for answers. I am merely commenting on Professor Lupin's lack of organization."

"He's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had," Dean said, and the class murmured agreement.

"You are too easily satisfied. I would expect first years to be able to deal with Red Caps and grindylows. Today we shall discuss werewolves."

"But sir," Hermione said, unable to restrain herself, "we're not due to learn werewolves yet, we're supposed to start hinkypunks--"

"Miss Granger, I am teaching this lesson, not you. Turn to page 394." He glanced around at them all. "Now!"

The class opened their books bitterly, along with some sullen muttering.

 

* * *

 

 

Ron had earned a detention for defending Hermione when Snape ridiculed her for answering a question, and Hermione wanted to start their essay on werewolves, so Harry was left to walk up the Gryffindor dormitory steps by himself at the end of the day.

When he walked inside the circular room, he saw two Gryffindor boys sitting with Seamus and Dean that had never been in the room before. The four of them turned to Harry when he entered.

"Hiya Harry!" Seamus grinned at him. "We're playing exploding snap."

"You should join us! And while you're at it, you can tell us about the Walrus Man!" One of the new boys said, blue eyes lit up with excitement.

"Er, I -- I actually need to drop by the library," Harry hastily made up a lie.

Harry swiftly descended down the stairs again before they could retort and left the common room. But where was he going to go now? He walked away from the portrait hole and then ducked into an empty classroom. He grabbed the Marauder's Map and waited for two laughing Hufflepuff girls to walk past. Once gone, he pushed open the door and reentered the hallway, thinking of places to go.

"Running from a boggart, Potter?"

Harry could've recognized that voice in a crowd. He swung back to Malfoy, who was standing at the end of the hall with a sneer.

"I don't have time for you, Malfoy," Harry scowled, and continued down the corridor.

"Yeah, hide from your Uncle Vernon."

Harry froze.

Malfoy shouldn't know his uncle's name.

Harry slowly turned back to him. "How do you know that?"

"Well, I already knew you were a coward, that's old news," Malfoy jeered. "And it looks like your Uncle Vernon knows too. That you're worthless. A freak."

These words stung Harry, but he furiously stormed up to Malfoy. "How do you know that?" Harry repeated with force.

"Next time you have a heart to heart with Professor Lupin, lock the door," Malfoy smirked, and walked to the left and out of sight, leaving Harry alone in the middle of the empty corridor.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Happy Valentine's Day! (Or as I call it, Single's Awareness Day!)  
> I feel like I haven't updated in ages!!  
> I'm really sorry for being silent for so long.. I have good reason!  
> I'm actually writing something else on ao3. It won't be a series like this one, it's inspired by a tumblr textpost I read and I'm just writing one short story about it. I'm honestly proud of it, so I hope you enjoy it when I finally publish it!  
> I've been taking my time with it to perfect it and make sure I love the final product. Thanks for your patience!  
> -  
> Also, today was a bit scary for me. I have a Harry Potter class at my school, and today we were playing Quidditch outside. My friend and I were Chasers, and she was running in front of me down a small hill with the Quaffle. It had been snowing here a few days ago, and it was wet and icy outside. She slipped and fell down really hard. I walked over to her, and at first I thought she was joking (she has a melodramatic humor), but her eyes were shut and she was still. She was unconscious for a few seconds. They wheeled her out and took her to the hospital. I've been talking with her family and she has a concussion and neck strain. She is at home now resting (I'm publishing this at 11pm lmao). It's been pretty stressful today, which is the main reason why I'm publishing this so late today. I'm going to drop off some stuff for her at her house tomorrow!  
> -  
> Now, at last, here is chapter 6!  
> Thank you and enjoy!  
> -  
> [Note that the Quidditch match and parts of Christmas will follow the Prisoner of Askaban closely again.]  
> ═══════════  
> ✧ February 14, 2019 ✧

 

╔══════════════╗

  _ **─ Chapter 6**_

╚══════════════╝

 

Harry was momentarily immobilized.

Acceptance finally sunk into his skin, but when he ran past the corner in which Malfoy had left, he was already gone.

_Malfoy knows._

His secret was going to be revealed.

Trembling from head to toe, Harry approached the portrait hole.

"S-Scurvy Cur," he said feebly.

Sir Cadogan -- who had taken the Fat Lady's spot after she was attacked by Sirius Black -- usually gave him a hard time when entering the common room, but to Harry's relief, he seemed to notice Harry was in a troublesome state and swung open without harassment.

He entered the empty common room and took his Marauder's Map out. Fortunately, Seamus and Dean's friends had left, and so Harry climbed the stairs to the dormitory safely. The curtains were drawn on Seamus', Dean's, and Neville's beds, and Ron looked over at Harry as he arrived.

"Hey, I was wondering where you were--" Ron stopped when he noticed Harry shaking as he sat down on his bed. "What happened?"

"Malfoy knows," Harry said.

Ron's eyes widened. " _He knows?_ "

Harry nodded. "He knows their names. He knows what they did. He knows everything."

"How? How did this happen?" Ron asked with alarm in his tone.

"He overheard Professor Lupin and I after the Hogsmeade trip," Harry told him, shaking his head. "How could I have been so _stupid_?"

"If anyone's stupid, it's Malfoy," Ron said through gritted teeth. "The absolute _git_."

"He's going to tell the whole school, I know it," Harry sighed. 

The two looked at each other with faces full of anger and dread.

 

* * *

 

 

 Harry woke extremely early the next morning; the sky was just turning indigo outside. For a moment he thought the roaring of the wind had woken him. Then he felt a cold breeze on the back of his neck and bolted upright -- Peeves had been floating next to the bed, blowing hard in his ear.

"What did you do that for?" Harry said furiously.

Peeves let out one huge, final blow, and zoomed backward out of the room, cackling.

Harry turned to his side tiredly and blinked at his clock sleepily. It was half past four. Cursing Peeves, he rolled over and tried to get back to sleep, but it was difficult as he was already awake. It was impossible to ignore the sounds of thunder rumbling overhead, or the pounding of the wind against the castle. He thought about how in a few hours he would be out on the Quidditch field, playing in such weather. He cringed and felt a cold breeze wash over him.

His heart started to pound as his thoughts drifted to Malfoy. Surely he would spread the details of his home life throughout the day, and by nightfall possibly all of Hogwarts could know Harry's biggest secret. He pulled the blankets closer to him as a tremor of fear shot through him. He'd prefer facing a dementor than face the hundreds of eyes staring into him, looking for something more.

He decided it was best to not dwell on it now, and he gave up on the prospect of sleep. He dressed, picked up his Nimbus Two Thousand, and walked quietly out of the dormitory.

As Harry opened the door, he felt something familiar brush against his leg and he bent down just in time to grab Crookshanks by the end of his tail.

"You know, I reckon Ron was right about you," Harry told Crookshanks, dragging him outside by the end of his bushy tail. "There are plenty mice around -- go and chase them. Go on," he said, nudging Crookshanks down the spiral staircase with his foot. "Leave Scabbers alone."

The noise of the storm thundered harder against the walls in the common room. He knew better than to think the match would be canceled; thunderstorms were like a papercut when it came to Quidditch. Nevertheless, his feeling of apprehension was rising again. Wood had shown him Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff seeker, in the corridor; Diggory was a fifth year and much bigger than Harry. Seekers were preferably light and speedy, but Diggory's weight would be an advantage in a storm because he was less likely to be blown off course.

Also, the match would give Malfoy plenty of time to tell people about the Dursleys. 

Harry waited until dawn, sitting in front of the fire and getting up every now and then to stop Crookshanks from sneaking up the boys' staircase again. Harry thought it must be time for breakfast -- as the sky had taken a peachy color -- so he headed through the portrait hole alone. 

"Stand and fight, you mangy cur!" Sir Cadogan yelled, his enthusiasm returning after the night.

"Oh, shut up," Harry said with a yawn.

He persevered through a large bowl of porridge, trying to settle his stomach from the fluttering nerves, and as he started in on his toast, the last of the team had turned up.

"It's going to be a tough one," Wood said anxiously, neglecting the food on the table.

 "Stop worrying, Oliver," Alicia told him soothingly. "We don't mind a bit of rain."

It was considerably more than a bit of rain. The popularity of Quidditch was so extensive that the whole school turned out to watch the match as usual, but they ran down the lawns towards the field; heads bowed against ferocious wind and umbrellas whipped out of their hands as they went. Harry noticed Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle laughing and pointing at him from under an enormous umbrella as he entered the locker room. His stomach did a huge flip, brushing his ribs. Had he already told them?

The team changed into their scarlet robes and waited for Wood's usual pre-match pep talk, but Wood never gave it. He tried to speak several times, made a strange gulping noise, and just shook his head and beckoned them to follow him.

The wind shoved them with so much force that they staggered as they walked onto the Quidditch pitch. They couldn't hear if the crowd was cheering over the claps of thunder roaring in their ears. Harry wondered how on earth he was going to see the Snitch as rain splattered against his glasses. 

The Hufflepuffs approached from the opposite side of the field, bearing their mustard robes. The Captains shook hands; Diggory smiled at Wood but Wood merely nodded with a set jaw. Madam Hooch's lips formed the words, "Mount your brooms." He pulled his right foot out of the squelching mud and swung it over his Nimbus. Madam Hooch's piercing whistle sounded, and they set off the ground and rose into the powerful storm.

Harry's broom swerved slightly in the wind; he held it as steady as he could and turned, squinting into the rain. Harry was quickly soaked frozen. He could hardly see his teammates, let alone the tiny Snitch. He flew down the field past blurred red and yellow figures, with no idea of what was happening in the rest of the game. He couldn't hear the commentary over the deafening wind. Twice Harry was almost unseated by a Bludger; his vision was so clouded by the rain he hadn't seen them coming. 

He could barely hold his broom straight. The sky was increasingly darkening, as though night had decided to arrive early. Harry nearly hit another player; he had no idea whether it was a teammate or opponent. Everyone was wet, and the rain was so thick, he could hardly tell them apart.

Madam Hooch's whistle screeched as the first strike of lightning flashed. The team splashed into the mud.

"I called for time-out!" Wood yelled at the team. "Come on, here--"

They huddled at the edge of the field, taking shelter under a spacious umbrella; Harry wiped his glasses on his robes.

"What's the score?" he asked breathlessly.

"We're fifty points up," Wood said, "but unless we get the Snitch soon, we'll be playing into night."

"I've got no chance with these on," Harry waved his glasses at them.

As if on cue, Hermione appeared at his shoulder. She was holding her cloak over her head and was, to Harry's surprise, beaming at him.

"I've had an idea, Harry! Give me your glasses, quick!"

He handed them to her, and the team watched in amazement as she tapped them with her wand and said, " _Impervius!_ "

"They'll repel water!" she said, handing them back to Harry.

Wood looked as though he could have kissed her.

"Brilliant!" he called hoarsely as she disappeared into the crowd. "Team, let's go for it!"

Hermione's spell worked flawlessly. Harry was still numb with cold, and wetter than he had ever been in his life, but he could see. Filled with fresh determination, he urged his broom through the turbulent air, searching for the Snitch, avoiding the Bludger, ducking below Diggory, who was gliding in the opposite direction...

Harry needed to find the Snitch as soon as possible. He turned, intending to fly back to the middle of the field, but at that moment, another flash of lightning illuminated the stands, and Harry saw something that distracted him and halted his broom -- the silhouette of a hefty shaggy black dog, imprinted against the sky, motionless in the topmost row of seats.

Harry's hands slipped on the handle and his broom dropped a few feet. Shaking his sodden bangs out of his eyes, he examined the back of the stands. The dog had vanished. 

"Harry!" Wood's voice yelled in anguish from the Gryffindor goalpost. "Behind you!"

Cedric Diggory was pelting up the field; a tiny speck of gold was shimmering in the rain filled air between them--

A jolt of panic shocked his body, and Harry threw himself flat to the broom and zoomed toward the Snitch. He cursed the broom under his breath to go faster, anticipation pulsing through him.

But something odd was happening. An eerie silence fell across the stadium. The wind still slapped him at all sides, but it forgot to roar. It was as though Harry had suddenly gone deaf -- what was going on?

And then a horribly recognizable wave of cold swept over him. Without thinking, Harry took his eyes off the Snitch and looked down.

At least a hundred dementors, their hidden faces pointing up at him, were floating beneath him. A swarm of freezing water filled his chest and cut at his insides. And then he heard it again... a woman was screaming in his head...

_"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"_

_"Stand aside, you silly girl...stand aside, now...."_

_"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead--"_

Swirling white fog was flowing into Harry's head.... What was he doing? Why was he flying? He needed to help her.... She was going to be murdered....

He was falling, falling through icy mist.

_"Not Harry! Please...have mercy...have mercy...."_

A shrill voice was laughing, the woman was screaming, and Harry knew no more.

 

* * *

 

 

"Lucky the ground was so soft."

"I thought he was dead for sure."

"He didn't even break his glasses."

Harry could hear voices whispering, but they made no sense whatsoever. He didn't know where he was, how he'd got there, or what he was doing before he got there. The only thing his brain comprehended was that every part of him was aching as though it had been beaten.

"That was the scariest thing I've ever seen in my life."

Scary...hooded black figures...cold...screaming...

Harry's eyes snapped open. He was lying in the hospital wing. The Gryffindor Quidditch team, splattered with mud, were gathered around his bed. Ron and Hermione stood with them as well, looking as though they'd just been swimming.

"Harry!" Fred exclaimed, looking pale under the layer of muck covering his face. "How're you feeling?"

The memory was playing in fast forward in his head. He felt dizzy and off balance.

"What happened?" He demanded, sitting up so suddenly they all gasped.

"You fell off," Fred said. "Must've been, what, fifty feet?"

"We thought you'd died," Alicia told him, shaking.

Hermione made a small, squeaky noise. She peered at him with bloodshot eyes.

"But the match," Harry continued impatiently. "What happened? Are we doing a replay?"

No one said anything, and the sinking, horrible truth collapsed on him with the weight of a boulder.

"We didn't --  _lose_?"

"Diggory got the snitch," George said. "Just after you fell. He didn't realize what had happened. When he looked back and saw you on the ground, he tried to call it off. Wanted a rematch. But they won fairly...even Wood admits it."

"Where is Wood?" Harry asked, realizing he was absent from the group.

"Still in the showers," Fred told him, a smirk hinting his face. "He's trying to drown himself."

Harry buried his face in his knees, his hands gripping his hair in shame. Fred grabbed his shoulder and shook it roughly.

"C'mon, Harry, you've never missed the Snitch before."

"There had to be one time," George said.

"It's not over yet," Fred added. "We lost by a hundred points, right? So if Hufflepuff loses to Ravenclaw and we beat Ravenclaw and Slytherin..."

"Hufflepuff will have to lose by two hundred points," George informed them.

"But if they beat Ravenclaw..."

"No way, Ravenclaw is too good. But if Slytherin loses against Hufflepuff..."

"It all depends on the points -- a margin of a hundred either way --"

Harry lay speechless while Fred and George debated points. For the first time ever, he had lost a Quidditch match.

Madam Pomfrey interrupted the team ten minutes into their discussion, telling the team to leave Harry in peace.

"We'll come and see you later," Fred looked to Harry. "Don't beat yourself up, Harry, you're still the best Seeker we've ever had."

The team trooped out together, trailing mud behind them. Madam Pomfrey shut the door behind them with a disapproving huff. Ron and Hermione moved nearer to Harry's bed.

"Dumbledore was really angry," Hermione said in a shaky voice. "I've never seen him like that before. He ran onto the field, waved his wand, and you sort of slowed down before you fell to the ground. Then he whirled his wand at the dementors -- shot silver stuff at them. They left right away.... He was furious they came onto the grounds. We heard them--"

"Then he magicked you onto a stretcher," Ron said, voice equally shaken. "And walked up to school with you floating on it. Everyone thought you were..."

His voice faded, but Harry hardly noticed. It had suddenly dawned on him that Malfoy could've been spreading word about the Dursleys during the past hours Harry had wasted.

"Has Malfoy been -- been saying anything?" Harry asked them nervously.

"What? About the match?" Hermione said, bewildered. She looked to Ron for support, but Ron understood what Harry was talking about.

"No," Ron told him, and Harry felt a tenseness leave him that he hadn't even realized was there. "We'll explain later," Ron answered Hermione's inquiring look.

"I would've thought he'd talk about it," Harry thought aloud, frowning. "What's he waiting for?"

"Dunno, mate," Ron said, looking confused as well. 

 _Why would Malfoy draw it out like this?_ he pondered.

"Did someone get my Nimbus?" Harry added.

Ron and Hermione glanced at each other.

"Er--"

"What?" Harry furrowed his brow, looking between the both of them.

"Well... when you fell off, it got blown away," Hermione told him hesitantly.

"And?"

"And it hit -- it hit -- oh, Harry -- it hit the Whomping Willow."

Harry's insides lurched.

"And?" he said, anticipating the answer.

"Well, you know the Whomping Willow," Ron looked to the floor. "It -- it doesn't like being hit."

"Professor Flitwick brought it back just before you came around," Hermione said in a minuscule voice.

She reached down for a bag at her feet, and turned it upside down slowly, tipping a dozen bits of splintered wood onto the bed; the only remains of Harry's faithful, finally defeated broomstick.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry stayed in the Hospital Wing for the rest of the weekend. Harry didn't complain, as he preferred to not face the angry faces of his Gryffindor peers or the judging glances from the other houses. 

He also knew that Malfoy would start spreading Harry's secret any minute now, and he was dreading the moment that it happened. He was still puzzled that Malfoy was waiting so long to do it, and it only added to his despair. The two days were unpleasant and miserable. 

Harry was released on Monday and he and Ron quickly explained the Malfoy situation to Hermione. Hermione was outraged that Malfoy would do such a thing. The three of them awaited the moment the Dursleys' idendities were disclosed, making sure Malfoy received a glare every time they saw him.

However, to Harry's utter disbelief, it was already Christmas break and Malfoy  _hadn't told anyone_. If he had, nobody was talking about it, but Harry doubted that it would go under the radar. The amount of stares were the same it had always been since Harry's boggart encounter.

"Merlin, what is he waiting for?" Ron wondered as the trio entered the common room, which was remarkably emptier than usual as most of the Gryffindors had left for Christmas break.

"No idea," Harry said, still unable to grasp Malfoy's silence. "I'm not complaining, but  _why_ _?_ "

"Have either of you thought that maybe Malfoy was lying?" Hermione asked.

Both Harry and Ron turned to her with stunned faces.

"What?" Ron stared at her, eyebrows comically raised near his hairline.

"He could have just been trying to intimidate you, Harry," Hermione explained. "Perhaps he's not as mean as you make him out to be."

"You're joking," Ron shook his head incredulously.

"Malfoy is not  _anything_  but a bully," Harry said. "Besides, he shouldn't have eavesdropped on Professor Lupin and I."

"That's true," Hermione agreed. "But you'll see. Malfoy's not going to do anything, he's already had his chance."

Harry and Ron decided to not try to change Hermione's mind, who seemed firm in her beliefs, and the three savored their Christmas break. The castle was considerably less populated, as most students visited their families, but Ron and Hermione decided to stay with Harry at Hogwarts. Harry found himself rarely needing to use the Marauder's Map during this time, which gave him a free, lifting feeling that he carried with him everywhere. 

It was a refreshing and enjoyable time for Harry.

 

* * *

 

 

Christmas morning arrived with a fresh sheet of clean snow. Harry slept in his warm, cozy bed in a dreamy state when he was abruptly woken by a pillow smacking his face.

"Oi! Presents!" Ron called as Harry tossed the pillow back at him.

Harry reached for his glasses and put them on, which revealed a small heap of presents sat on the floor. Ron was tearing the paper off one of his own presents already.

"Another sweater from Mum... maroon again... Harry, see if you've got one."

And so he had; Mrs. Weasley had gifted him a scarlet sweater with the Gryffindor lion knitted on the front. She also sent a dozen home baked mince pies, some Christmas cake, and a box of nut brittle. He moved the gifts and wrapping aside, and noticed a long, thin package lying underneath.

"What's that?" Ron asked, looking over and holding a pair of maroon socks in his hand.

"Dunno."

Harry ripped the parcel open and gasped at the magnificent, shining broomstick that appeared. Ron dropped his socks and moved over for a closer look.

"I don't believe it," Ron said hoarsely.

It was a Firebolt. Identical to the broom Harry had seen and dreamed about every day during his stay in Diagon Alley. It glittered as he picked it up and exmained it. It started vibrating and he let go; it hung midair.

"Who sent it to you?" Ron looked at him eagerly.

"Look and see if there's a card," Harry said.

Ron searched the Firebolt's wrapping. "Nothing! Blimey, who'd spend that much on you?"

"I'm betting it wasn't the Dursleys," Harry commented.

"I bet it was Dumbledore," Ron said, devouring every inch of the glorious broom. "He sent you the Invisibility Cloak anonymously..."

"That was my dad's, though," Harry reminded him. "Dumbledore was only passing it on to me. He wouldn't spend hundreds of Galleons on me. He can't go giving students things like this--"

"That's why he wouldn't say it was him!" Ron exclaimed, deep in thought. "Harry, wait til Malfoy sees you on an  _international_ standard broom! He'll be sick as a pig!"

"Let's just hope he doesn't get too mad and goes and tells everyone about the Dursleys," Harry said.

Ron immediately stopped laughing.

Hermione came in, wearing her night dress and carrying Crookshanks, who looked grumpy as usual and had a string of tinsel around his neck.

"Don't bring him here!" Ron yelled, snatching Scabbers and stowing him in his pajama pocket.

But Hermione wasn't listening to him. She dropped Crookshanks onto Seamus' vacant bed and gaped at the Firebolt.

"Oh, Harry! Who sent you _that?_ "

"No clue. There was no card," Harry explained.

Hermione didn't appear as excited or intrigued as Harry and Ron. On the contrary, her face fell.

"What's the matter?" Ron questioned.

"It's a bit odd," Hermione said slowly. "I mean, this is supposed to be quite a good broom, isn't it?"

Ron sighed exasperatedly. "It's the best there is, Hermione."

"So it must've been really expensive..." she continued. "Who'd send Harry something as pricey as that, and not say who sent it?"

"Who cares? Harry, can I have a go on it?" Ron brushed Hermione off.

"I don't think anyone should ride that broom yet!" Hermione cut in shrilly.

"What's he going to do with it, sweep the floor?" Ron asked with a smirk.

Before Hermione could answer, Crookshanks sprang at Ron's chest, diving for Scabbers.

"GET -- HIM -- OUT -- OF -- HERE!" Ron bellowed as Crookshanks' claws ripped his pajamas and Scabbers wildly tried to escape over his shoulder.

Ron aimed a misjudged kick at Crookshanks and hit the trunk at the end of Harry's bed, howling in pain.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the Great Hall for the Christmas feast later at dinner time. The elongated, tall room was dressed in holly and sparkling lights; baubles gleamed in the candlelight on well adorned Christmas trees. So few people had stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas that the three of them had to sit at one table along with all the teachers. 

"Merry Christmas!" Dumbledore beamed at them as they took their seats. "Crackers!"

Professor Trelawney, for the first time Harry had seen, joined everyone at dinner. Harry helped himself to roast potatoes and devoured the heavenly food prepared on the table. He cheerfully talked with Ron and Hermione, feeling happier than he had in weeks. 

After his joyous Christmas meal, Harry and Ron stood up to leave.

"Coming?" Harry asked Hermione.

"I'd like a quick word with Professor McGonagall," Hermione muttered.

"Probably trying to see if she can take any more classes," Ron yawned as they returned to their common room, filled with warmth and food. 

Harry and Ron climbed the steps to their dormitory, grabbed his Firebolt and Broom Servicing Kit Hermione had given him for his birthday, and brought them downstairs. The two discussed what to do with it -- Ron mainly admiring it from every angle -- until Hermione came in, accompanied by Professor McGonagall.

Harry had seen Professor McGonagall in the common room only one time before, and it was for a very grave reason. Hermione walked around them, sat down, and picked up the nearest book, hiding her face behind it.

"So that's it, is it?" Professor McGonagall announced, walking to the fireside and staring at the Firebolt. "Hmm. And there was no note at all, Potter? No card -- message of any kind?"

"No," Harry replied, confused about the motive behind this inspection.

"I see... well, I'm afraid I will have to take this, Potter."

"W-What?" Harry gawked at her, scrambling to his feet. "Why?"

"It will need to be checked for jinxes," Professor McGonagall said. "I'm no expert, but I daresay Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick will strip it down--"

"Strip it down?" Ron repeated, face scarlet with rage. 

"It shouldn't take more than a few weeks," Professor McGonagall explained. "You will have it returned if we are sure it is jinx free."

"There's nothing wrong with it!" Harry said desperately. "Honestly, Professor--"

"You can't know that, Potter," Professor McGonagall said, in a quieter and kinder voice. "I shall keep you informed."

Professor McGonagall turned on her heel and carried the marvelous broom out of the portrait hole, which closed at her leave. Harry stood rooted in place, but Ron rounded on Hermione.

" _What did you go running to McGonagall for?_ "

"Because I thought -- and Professor McGonagall agrees -- that the broom was probably sent by Sirius Black!"

Harry could barely remember the overwhelming joy that he had felt only a few minutes ago. His dream broomstick was confiscated and short lived. A creeping sensation prickled his skin as he remembered that Christmas break was nearing an end, and Malfoy could return and finally reveal what he had been hiding.

The future seemed most dreadful indeed. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I have Chapter 7 ready for you all!  
> I apologize for taking so long to update. It's been almost a month! Like I mentioned last time, I've been working hard in school, on my other work, and on my Drama performances. We performed last night and tonight, and tomorrow I have two more performances as well. So far we've done great, and I know we'll do even better tomorrow!  
> This is a smallish chapter because I've been focusing on finishing and perfecting my new one-part story. I've decided the release date, which will be this Sunday, March 10. I'm so excited for you all to read it, so look out for that!  
> Also, my birthday is pretty soon! It's next Sunday, March 17th. St. Patrick's Day, too! I've always loved having my birthday on a holiday. My family goes all out on St. Paddy's Day! 🍀  
> Finally, thank you for supporting me and following me (some of you since the beginning)!  
> Enjoy this chapter!  
> ═══════════  
> ✧ March 8, 2019 ✧

╔══════════════╗

  _ **─ Chapter 7**_

╚══════════════╝

 

Christmas break ended, and all of the students who had gone home for the holidays returned -- along with the constant torment about his Muggle relatives.

Also, Malfoy was back.

The first day of school, Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched him attentively. Malfoy was acting differently now. He had become suspicious. This worried Harry; Malfoy hadn't seemed like a threat before, as he had kept his mouth shut. Malfoy world smirk back at them, whispering to Crabbe and Goyle every time he noticed them looking.

Harry's stomach felt as if it were a bomb, ticking down the seconds until he'd explode. Sometimes it felt so unpleasant that he thought he would be sick in front of everyone. Ron and Hermione tried to comfort him throughout this uneasy day, but none of them could expect what was coming. They just had to wait.

It was excruciating.

Harry didn't sleep well that night.

The next morning, Harry woke to an empty dormitory. Ron usually waited for him to wake up before he went to breakfast. Confused and a little hurt, he pulled on his robes and shoes, and left the common room through the portrait hole. The murmur of students crescendoed as he approached the entrance to the Great Hall.

Many people at the end of the tables quieted as Harry arrived in the grand room. Something must have happened -- people didn't silence like _this_  when he entered on a regular day. But what was it?

Harry slowly walked over to the Gryffindor table, where he saw Ron and Hermione reading the paper grimly. The two glanced up, caught sight of him, and Ron leaped to his feet to meet Harry.

"Harry, I left the dormitory early because -- because -- well, just read this."

Harry followed him back to where Hermione was sitting, sat on the bench next to Ron, and slid the Prophet across the tabletop anxiously. His body went rigid and numb as he started to read the front page.

_≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡_

_The Daily Prophet_

**HARRY POTTER'S HOME LIFE:** Written by Rita Skeeter

The famous Boy Who Lived has been private when it comes to the home that he lives in outside of school. He has been known to stay at Hogwarts, the school he attends, during winter break, and only returns to his home during the summer. All that we have known until now is that he lives with Muggle relatives.

However, in this exclusive interview with a Hogwarts student, we learn the darkness that is hidden behind the walls of that house.

Draco Malfoy, a student in Harry Potter's year, specifically asked to have an interview with myself. I had no idea of the secrets he would reveal to me.

"He lives with his Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and cousin Dudley," Mr. Malfoy told me as we talked in his home. "The lot's anti-magic. Potter's their little freak slave. With those Muggles, he isn't famous little Harry Potter. Oh no, Potter's a  _burden_ there."

Mr. Malfoy went on to explain how his family treats Harry. Harry is a piece of scum to his Muggle relatives. 

"His boggart is his uncle," Mr. Malfoy disclosed. "He completely  _freaked_ out during class when it became his uncle. Potter craves attention. He's become so desperate that he's gone to a shabby old teacher for sympathy. I overheard their conversation as I walked past, because Potter's obnoxiously loud. Too bad he's gone to a shoddy bloke."

Mr. Malfoy later informed me that the teacher he was speaking of was Remus J. Lupin, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts. When I asked what his take on the situation was, this is what he said:

"I think Potter is being weak and cowardly. He could work harder to control his family. They're only Muggles, after all. I pity him. He could easily stop them, but he doesn't, because he relishes in the spotlight."

Flip to page 7 to read more on what this new information could mean for our view on the Boy Who Lived.

_≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡_

 All of his muscles loosened with shock, and he lowered his shaking hands to his lap. He shut his eyes tightly. Malfoy had dragged it out so long, and the pain the article caused him was indescribable. His last secret was now out in the world in the most cruel way ever.

He pushed his hand through his messy black hair, defeated, and lost for words.

"I.. I don't want.. no.."

"We know, Harry. None of it's true," Hermione told him with a solemn tone.

"Malfoy's the petty one, bringing your stuff to some reporter," Ron said, shaking his head.

Harry folded his arms on the table and rested his face down on them. He felt Ron's hand pat his shoulder, helping him control his emotions. 

He didn't care if Malfoy was laughing. He didn't care if one person, or the entire school was staring at him. 

"They're going to be insufferable," he moaned quietly.

The path he was about to take seemed steep and downhill.

 

* * *

 

 

As expected, everyone stared.

Hundreds of eyes had read the propaganda article, and now all of them were set on him.

It was the worst it had been since this whole ordeal started in the beginning of the year. Now, they weren't blind to why his boggart was his uncle. They knew every last secret he had.

It was horribly frustrating. He was a boiling pot, and the steaming water was slowly rising with every sideways glance. He wanted to scream -- yell "You have everything! What more do you want?!"

Malfoy wore the most awful, smug look, and Harry would have loved to rip it off. He didn't know if he would've been able to last as long as he had without Ron and Hermione. They were always there by his side, escorting him through the flames. He was eternally grateful.

He kept switching between wanting to collapse and give up, or scream and hit something. It was his personal hell. His eyelids drooped, his back slouched, and his knees were feeble. He had to make do with his broken body as he dragged himself from class to class.

Harry was anticipating his next Potions class to be painful, but it was absolutely  _horrendous_. Only five minutes into class, Snape was already sneaking shade into his lecture.

"We will be brewing a rather difficult potion today. It will not be easy to do for those who are weak minded," Snape finished, looked directly at Harry, and waited a beat for the class to realize who he was referencing.

Harry's face was burning with embarrassment and rage.

"The concoction will be scalding, and it will bubble and rise to the point that you must contain it with a compression charm, which you should have recently learned in Charms. I do hope that if you are too fragile to control it, that you leave the room."

Harry gripped his robes inside his curling fists. A whistling scream like a kettle brewing tea was growing in his ears.

"I want to make this very clear," Snape drawled. "I will not have anyone hesitate because of fear. So if the potion says something mean, you'll have to be a big boy and not cower like a--"

Harry was snatching his bag and storming to the door before his brain caught up. The other students gawked at him as he swung open the door and slammed it shut in his dust. Snape didn't have to say anything for Harry to know what he was thinking -- Harry could see him clearly in his mind; the malevolent sneer and superior stance. Harry shoved the image aside and continued to stomp down the corridors furiously.

He found a vacated broom closet, went inside, and collapsed in the back corner where the darkness consume him. He sat there for a few seconds, trying to calm himself, until to his humiliation he was crying. He'd been doing that a lot more recently. He pulled himself into a ball and let the hot, salty tears fall. His breathing was uneven with each sob, and he held himself tighter as a shiver ran through him.

Harry was tired. He was tired of being the gossip. Tired of being a slave to his mental trauma the Dursley's had given him. A sudden wave of anger shot through him and he punched his bag in frustration. He just wanted to be Harry, not the Boy Who Lived, not Poor Harry Potter, not a pity story, not--

The door was opening. Harry instinctively shoved himself against the wall, awaiting the intruder. To his surprise, there were two, and their names were Fred and George Weasley.

Their gleeful faces were wiped of humor as they observed Harry's wet face. Harry self consciously wiped his eyes and avoided eye contact.

"Well, Harry Potter is the exact person I did not expect to find a broom cupboard," Fred smirked.

"You seem startled," George added. "I'm assuming you haven't got that map on you?"

"No," Harry murmured, sniffing. 

Harry felt their gazes scorching his skin. 

"Don't go feeling too bad for yourself yet," Fred told him.

"We don't believe what the Prophet said about you," George finished.

Harry threw his head up. "Really?"

"'Course not," George waved him off. "That Skeeter woman's spread lies about every famous witch and wizard."

Harry felt a small smile form on his lips. He was relieved that he wasn't alone in this.

"You haven't got to do everything by yourself, mate," George bent down and patted his shoulder.

George looked the most serious Harry had ever seen him. However, it was short lived, and soon a grin appeared on his face and his twin's as he rose.

"Now, come to us if you need anything," Fred said, linking arms with George. "Also, the Acidum potion won't be difficult for a strong willed person like you."

And with that, the two were off. Harry watched them march down the hallway, astonished, and wondering how they had overheard what Snape had called him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm back again with a new installment of this story!  
> I don't like apologizing a lot, so I'll make it quick. Again, I'm sorry for taking so long to update. Lately, school has been taking a lot of my attention. If you would like to see more frequent content from me, I'd recommend you check out my fan account on Instagram! My username is @acciopotterxo. Here's a link to it as well: https://www.instagram.com/acciopotterxo/  
> Also, I've been feeling pretty uninspired for some reason. I just haven't been able to think of where to take this story. Fortunately, I've had a burst of inspiration and have planned out three more chapters! I'll try my best to continue this within decent amounts of time, but updates may be irregular.  
> Finally, I would like to thank you all SO much for almost 1000 hits and nearly 100 kudos! It's absolutely mind blowing that so many people have read my work AND enjoyed it! I love you all <3  
> That's all I have to say this time. Enjoy reading!  
> ═══════════  
> ✧ April 10, 2019 ✧

╔══════════════╗

  _ **─ Chapter 8**_

╚══════════════╝

 

Harry was holding himself in a tight ball as he sat in darkness. He was in his old closet under the stairs, with spiders, dust and despair. His hands grabbed at his arms, clawing for some comfort in this space of gloom. He shielded himself by burying his face in his chest as a large mass loomed over him in the narrow doorway.

"You have work to do! You worthless freak, get out from there and do what you are told!" Uncle Vernon shouted at him. 

Harry's mind was telling him to stand up for himself, to make a remark and tell off his uncle. But right now he felt so weak and small in this little corner, and his instincts told him he should wait for the hurricane to pass and try to get through this. 

"Are you a freak  _and_ stupid as well?  _No one cares about you,_ so stop pitying yourself and  _get up!_ " His uncle spat.

Every word sliced his skin open. His arms were stinging from the pressure of his fingers digging into him, but he didn't stop -- it was the only thing soothing him.

He heard rustling and then the whip of a belt. He froze and felt his senses go numb. His family rarely hit him, but he knew his uncle wasn't messing around.

"Please--" he tried speaking, but his gravelly voice broke.

He braced himself for impact, clutching his body tighter and letting a couple tears fall from his clenched eyes.

" _HARRY!_ "

He gasped and shot up in bed. His body slowly returned to reality; he felt the soft covers of his bed, the sweat dripping from his face, his best friend's figure on the side of the bed and the burn on his arms from scratching himself in his sleep. Ron didn't speak again; he could only hear his own shallow breaths and the snores of his peers. 

Harry groaned and buried his face in his knees, wrapping himself with his sore arms. He'd  _never_ had a nightmare about the Dursley's before. All of the sudden, he was absolutely terrified of them. Why did this all have to happen _now_? He cursed the boggart that started this whole mess. He cursed Malfoy for revealing his secret to the Prophet. He cursed Rita Skeeter for spreading it to the world. 

And he cursed the Dursley's. Oh, how he  _hated_ them.

He felt Ron's hand on his back and his muscles loosened a bit. Harry silently thanked him for not wanting to talk about it.

 

* * *

 

 

People continued to stare.

He became even more noticeable when he started losing sleep, forming massive bags under his eyes. His already uncontrollable hair was in even more disarray and he dragged his feet as he walked.

Harry resented the students that gawked at him as if he was a zoo animal. Do they have nothing better to do than make him their entertainment? Sometimes he would challenge them back with piercing eyes, but most of the time he was just too tired and he hauled himself around with lifeless eyes. 

What made the whole situation even worse was how those he was close to reacted to the article. The first time Hagrid saw him since it was published, he burst into tears and devoured Harry in a massive, wet hug in the middle of the corridor. Professor McGonagall seemed to be laying off of him, as his grades were slightly higher than before. He caught Professor Lupin looking at him several times with a mixture of sympathy and curiosity on his face. Ron and Hermione were always there when he was struggling to hold himself together.

He didn't want this.

They don't deserve to deal with his issues.

He can handle this by himself. 

To prevent burdening them, Harry slowly drew away from them. He spent more time alone in his dormitory and spoke less during meals. He didn't join Ron and Hermione when they visited Hagrid and he didn't participate in Gryffindor games. The less time people spent with him, the less damaged they became.

Harry knew this was the best for everyone.

 

* * *

 

 

January rolled into February, and Harry continued to distance himself from the world. Malfoy was losing interest in recounting Harry's story, and less ears wanted to listen. Things were calming down and Harry was beginning to feel a sense of safety.

But of course, madness sparks from peace.

Harry was slowly eating his way through a slice of toast at lunch in the Great Hall. Crookshanks was becoming increasingly violent towards Scabbers, and Ron was furious. Harry was dozing off and lightly dipping his toast in jam as Ron and Hermione argued over their pets. When one of them tried to include Harry in the debate, he nodded and made a face while taking another bite of food.

That night, Harry had endured a dream of running around Privet Drive to escape his aunt, uncle and cousin. These types of nightmares had been occurring frequently, and draining every last ounce of energy in him. With the mixture of his dream haunting him and the constant bickering, Harry sighed and bowed his head, messing with his unkempt hair and rubbing his sore eyes.

"Are we being annoying, Harry?"

Harry pulled his head up to Hermione's voice. Hermione and Ron wore looks of embarrassment. 

"No, no, it's fine," Harry lied.

They still looked uncertain, but before they could push it, Professor Dumbledore dismissed the hall for afternoon classes. The three of them rose from the Gryffindor table and joined the flow of students leaving.

"Listen, I'm going to the Owlrey," Harry told them.

"What about class?" Hermione asked.

"I'll -- I'll be there soon," Harry assured her. "See you later, guys."

"Okay," Ron said with a bewildered stare. "Bye, then."

As Harry walked the other way, he heard them fighting again and was grateful he decided to part.

He climbed the many staircases leading to the owl post tower, and when he arrived he sat down against the rounded wall and listening to the many owls chatting among themselves and fluttering their wings. Exhaustion overcame him and he fell into a dream like state.

Suddenly, Hedwig flew in through a window with a letter in her beak.

"Hedwig?" Harry looked at her as she settled on one of the perches. Why hadn't she delivered it at breakfast? And when had she left to retrieve it?

Harry rose from his nook and took the letter from her grasp. With shaking fingers he peeled open the seal and unfolded the note. When he began to read it, his heart fell to the pit of his stomach.

 

_Harry,_

_This is your uncle. I hate having to use a bloody owl to contact you, but I must talk to you._

_I've been told by your headmaster that there was something written about our situation in your paper. It makes us out to be abusers, and you know this isn't true. That crackpot magician is having us supervised by your people because they think we're dangerous._

_You must be behind this. You know how much we hate magic, and now you're attracting filth to us. You will be punished for doing such a thing._

_Fix this._

_Uncle Vernon_


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I haven't updated this soon after a chapter since the beginning of this story! It feels great to be writing. :)  
> We did it!! We finally hit 1000 hits! As I am publishing this, "An Unexpected Boggart" has 1064 hits and 91 kudos. Thank you all SO MUCH for supporting and reading my work. I want to be a creative writer long term (and possibly as future income), and doing this is helping grow and improve my writing. This story was my first time putting my writing out there, and all the response to it really makes my heart happy. Thank you, thank you, thank you! ♡  
> Here's the next installment! It's a shorter one, but I feel this is a very important chapter. This chapter starts to bring the plot to a new point in Harry's struggle. Harry has been repressing his trauma with the Dursley's for years, and it's starting to explode out of him.  
> Grab a snack and enjoy reading!  
> ═══════════  
> ✧ April 12, 2019 ✧

╔══════════════╗

  _ **─ Chapter 9**_

╚══════════════╝

 

Harry reread the letter several times, mouth hung open.

He had never expected the article to affect the Dursley's. He'd thought it would never reach them. How naive he was to think that was the end of his troubles.

He was in a state of shock. His brain was struggling to comprehend this new information. Chills were crawling up his body like spiders, even in the warm Owlrey. Hedwig seemed to notice his distress and kept pecking at his arm. Or maybe she was asking for a treat as a reward for her delivery. Harry didn't know. All Harry knew was that  _the Dursley's know._

One sentence from the letter was circling his thoughts.  _You will be punished._ He thought of all the possible things they would do to him. Surely it would be the most severe punishment he's ever received. It's the biggest violation of their rules he'd ever made. The Dursley's despise magic, and now they are in the middle of the Wizarding World's gossip, and will have wizards and witches at their doorstep daily.

His head started whirling into action, and alarm bells were triggered as his brain finally registered this information.

_Professor Dumbledore is having witches and wizards go to Privet Drive._

_You have to stop him._

Harry's senses returned; he shoved the letter in his pocket and shot down the corridor. He ignored the strange looks from passersby and continued sprinting, his hair and school robes flying behind him. He had one goal:  _get to Professor Dumbledore._

He stopped before the large gargoyle standing in the middle of the passageway. Panting, he tested several different keywords.

"Fawkes -- socks -- sherbert lemon -- lemon drop!"

The last try worked, and the gargoyle sprang into life and jumped aside as the wall behind it split into two. Harry leaped onto the ascending staircase and jogged up each step impatiently. He blasted through the door in his haste and finally entered Professor Dumbledore's office.

The circular room looked just as Harry remembered it. Thin silver instruments rested on spindly tables, making strange noises and emitting puffs of smoke; the familiar, shabby Sorting Hat snoozed on its shelf and the previous headmasters of Hogwarts sat in their portraits on the walls, startled by Harry's sudden arrival. However, Harry had no time to acknowledge these things; Professor Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, looking at Harry over his half moon spectacles.

"Why, Harry, what a lovely surprise," Professor Dumbledore said kindly. "I wonder what could have--"

"Professor Dumbledore, listen, you shouldn't have let the Dursley's know about the article!" Harry interrupted. 

Confusion spread across Professor Dumbledore's face. Harry had never seen him express confusion before.

"How did you hear about that? I was going to tell you myself," Professor Dumbledore asked, recovering from his shock.

Harry didn't answer. "I can handle it myself, there's really no need to send people to Privet Drive--"

"I will have to disagree with you there," Professor Dumbledore said calmly. "The article recently published in the Daily Prophet revealed disturbing information about the Dursley's, and action needs to be taken to prevent further abuse."

"A-Abuse?" Harry's voice cracked. "That's a harsh word, we've only been having a bit of trouble--"

"My dear boy, if I am not mistaken, your boggart is your uncle," Professor Dumbledore said.

Harry was silent.

"I believe that intervening is the correct way to address this," Professor Dumbledore continued. "The things listed in the article require immediate consideration, and it is quite concerning that you are against intervention. Is there a reason why we should not do something to supervise the Dursley's?"

"They hate magic, they're going to be really mad," Harry told him.

"I'm afraid I will need better reasoning," Professor Dumbledore wore a bitter smile. "Perhaps there is something you are not telling me?"

"Please, Professor, you can't do this--" Harry begged.

"This has to be done," Professor Dumbledore said.

Harry stumbled back from the desk, defeated. 

He had no control.

Harry started panicking.

His heart pounded against his throat and his breathing grew heavier. His body was shaking violently. His head felt as light as a balloon; his legs lost all feeling and suddenly he was falling to the ground.

"Harry?" 

His lungs felt like they were closing; he saw Professor Dumbledore rising from his chair and then everything went black.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm back with another chapter!  
> We've now hit 100 kudos! Thank you all for the support this story has received. I love reading all the comments and seeing the kudos number rise. You all are awesome! :) Also, this story has 200 more hits since I published my last chapter! Absolutely insane!  
> In this chapter, I applied a lot of sensory detail from one of my own real life experiences. Several months ago, I had to go under anesthesia for four teeth extractions. Yikes! It was not fun; I couldn't eat properly for a month. In the beginning, when Harry is waking up, I tried to include some of my own feelings when I woke up from anesthesia. The confusion, the dizziness, the struggle to speak. I think it makes that part of this chapter all the more real, because it is heavily based from one of my own experiences.  
> Anyways, that's all I've got to say! Enjoy reading!  
> ═══════════  
> ✧ April 14, 2019 ✧

╔══════════════╗

  _ **─ Chapter 3**_

╚══════════════╝

 

Bliss.

Harry was in absolute bliss.

He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this way. There was no stress or worry plaguing Harry's mind. He wasn't really thinking about anything -- his mind was calm. A soft mattress was supporting his aching limbs; warm sheets blanketed the front of his body; his heavy head rested on a fluffy pillow. He had no idea what time it was, where he was, or even what day it was. In this moment, Harry was free.

Slowly, he started to leave this dreamy world. He heard a low murmur of talking, and the pain in his joints was overpowering his comfort. He drowsily opened his eyes, disoriented. He quickly realized he was in the Hospital Wing; he saw Madam Pomfrey tending to some bubbling vials at the far counter. Suddenly, everything that had occurred earlier flooded into his head all at once.

Harry lurched up, which he immediately regretted once his brain started pounding against his skull. He gasped from the pain and grabbed his head.

Madam Pomfrey whirled around, startled. "Oh, Harry, you must rest," she exclaimed, bustling over to him and gently pushing him back onto the bed.

"W-Wait.." he mumbled sleepily.

"Shhhh," Madam Pomfrey brought a finger to her lips. 

"Where.. where is Pro-Profess- Dumbledore?" Harry managed to say. "I-I need--"

"Never you mind," Madam Pomfrey told him. "Here, I'll be back with some Dreamless Sleep."

Harry tried to sit up again, but the throbbing in his head overruled his attempt. He couldn't manage to form anymore words. Madam Pomfrey returned with a violet potion and removed the cork from the flask.

"Here you go," she said kindly, tipping the liquid into his mouth.

Harry was far too tired to resist. He swallowed the potion, and an overwhelming exhaustion swept over him. He collapsed against his pillow and allowed his eyes to close; he returned to his heavenly place up high in the clouds where he could not be touched.

 

* * *

 

 

When Harry's eyes opened again, light was streaming through the tall windows. He brought his hands to his face, shielding his pupils from the bright room. 

He had slept better than he had in months. No nightmares torturing him into consciousness. No staring at the ceiling until early hours. Harry had nearly forgotten how wonderful it was to sleep.

His arms sunk to his side, exposing the infirmary again. To his surprise, Ron and Hermione were sitting on either side of his bed.

"Ron! Hermione!" Harry breathed, sitting up more carefully than before.

"Hey, Harry," Ron replied, both him and Hermione smiling.

"Where's Professor Dumbledore?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged quick looks, communicating without speaking.

"He's not here right now," Hermione said.

"I need to talk to him," Harry frowned.

"Maybe later," Hermione told him.

"Okay," Harry was in too weak of a state to push it. "So, uhm.. what happened?"

"We haven't heard much about the actual situation," Ron said. "All we've been told is that you were in Professor Dumbledore's office and you passed out from.. from a panic attack. You were taken here to rest. People have been coming by to look at you, so Madam Pomfrey closed your curtain," Ron gestured to the right side of Harry's bed, where the pale grey curtains were fully drawn. "Hermione and I are the only visitors you've had."

"How long have I been in here?" Harry asked.

"Today's the third day," Hermione answered. "You've woken up a couple times, but this is the one time you've been fully conscious."

The three of them sat in silence, listening to the low hum of Madam Pomfrey talking to another patient. 

"I'm sorry!" Hermione blurted out, stunning both Harry and Ron. A shush came from the other side of the curtain.

"What?" Harry furrowed his brow in confusion.

"I'm so sorry, Harry, this is our fault," Hermione cried. "If Ron and I hadn't been bickering like toddlers, we would have noticed something was wrong when you went to the Owlrey! You wouldn't have had a panic attack and passed out and--"

"Woah, woah, slow down Hermione," Harry said, and Hermione sniffled and wiped her eyes. "You guys aren't at fault. I.. I just lost control, but I can do better next time--"

"But you can't!" Hermione cut him off. "And that's the issue, Harry!  _You can't do this by yourself!_ "

"There's really no need to bring other people into my own problems, I can just figure it out myself--"

"No, you can't," Ron shook his head. "We can help you."

"We've been needing to talk about this for a while," Hermione said. "You're isolating yourself, Harry. You downplay your problems because you think you deserve to deal with them yourself. We can give you space, but you can't detach yourself from the people who love you and want to help you."

"You haven't got to do everything by yourself, mate," Ron told him.

Harry remembered when George had said those exact same words to him, back in the broom cupboard where Harry had been hiding. Both Ron and Hermione radiated determination. It did sound relieving to be able to let people help with his issues.

"You need to start talking about things," Hermione straightened up in her chair confidently.

"I'll.. I'll try," Harry said softly.

Relief washed over Ron and Hermione's faces. 

"Good," Hermione grinned. "Now, let's start with what happened in the Owlrey that led you to go to Professor Dumbledore."

Harry didn't speak, lowering his gaze from their eyes to his bed.

"Harry, you said you would talk to us," Hermione scolded him.

"I know," Harry sighed. Reluctantly, he reached inside his pocket and felt the letter. He revealed it to them, but didn't release his grip on it.

"You got a letter?" Ron raised his eyebrows.

"Yes.." Harry said hesitantly. "Listen, I don't know what they'll do if they find out someone else read this--"

"Oh, Harry, hand it over," Hermione seized the letter from his hand.

Harry's hands trembled as he watched Hermione unfold the note and Ron lean in to read. Both of their faces slowly morphed into shock as they neared the end of the letter. Harry's cheeks burned with embarrassment, and he lowered his reddening face. His heart thumped against his chest like a bird stuck in a cage. 

"Harry," he heard Hermione's voice say, gentler than before. "Professor Dumbledore needs to see this."

"No, it's okay, that's really not needed--"

"Harry!" Ron stopped him. "We can't just ignore this! Your uncle is _manipulating you_ into silence!"

"You can't show Professor Dumbledore, he's just going to make things worse, and my uncle -- he'll -- he'll--"

" _Harry,_ " Hermione repeated more forcefully, placing her hand on his arm. "Your family can't touch you here. You're safe."

"You're going to be okay," Ron told him.

Harry looked at the two of them; both of their eyes were full of sincerity and caring. His green ones found comfort staring into their warm complexions. They were very convincing in their speech -- maybe Harry  _would_ be okay. Harry was still unsure about the idea, but it was so tempting to believe them.

Harry let out a shaky breath and nodded. Ron and Hermione smiled at him, leaning in from each side of him for a hug. Harry relaxed as his anxiety slowly drained out of him. In their embrace, Harry felt just a bit more stable and at ease. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh.. this is embarrassing. This is the longest break I've taken from publishing a chapter. I haven't updated since April, and the only excuse I have is that I was... lazy. 😬 I'm so sorry! Thank you guys SO MUCH for 2.2k hits and 175 kudos! I can't believe I have twice as many hits as when I updated last, and that so many people have left kudos on this work!  
> Summer break has now ended for me, and I've recently started the new school year as a freshman. I was so nervous to start high school, but I'm starting to get used to my new school and the layout. It's MUCH bigger than my middle school.  
> To all of you who have stuck with me and this story- I appreciate you dearly. I'm so sorry for taking so long to publish a new chapter. You have no idea how happy it makes me when I see a kind comment or a new kudo. Thank you, thank you a million times <3  
> I'm thinking of ending this story soon. I've been experiencing some serious writer's block, which is the main reason that it took so long to publish a new chapter. Also, the new school year brings more homework, so I'll need to focus more on my schoolwork. I'm so thankful for everyone who has stuck through this story with me - this was my first time writing fanfiction, and it holds a special place in my heart. If you enjoy my writing and want to read more of it, make sure to check out my other works! I also have some new works in the making that I would love for you to read when they're published.  
> Anyways, here is another chapter! It's a bit shorter than most of my chapters, but this is a bit of a filler before I wrap the story up in the next chapter.  
> Enjoy reading!  
> ═══════════  
> ✧ September 1, 2019 ✧

╔══════════════╗

  _ **─ Chapter 11**_

╚══════════════╝

 

Madam Pomfrey offered that Harry stay in the Hospital Wing and rest for the weekend, and Harry decided to take her up on it. He was both mentally and physically exhausted from his recent trauma, and knew he wasn't ready to face those hundreds of eyes that never tired of looking at him. If he had his way, he would never face them again.

Saturday was very peaceful for Harry, laying under multiple warm blankets and visiting with Ron and Hermione. Hermione brought her homework to complete in the infirmary; she offered to bring Harry his homework, but he declined. Ron brought chocolate frogs, jelly slugs and cauldron cakes to eat while they played games. It was an uneventful, perfect day.

On Sunday evening, Ron and Hermione returned -- Ron with a chess game and two boxes of Bertie Bott's every flavored beans, and Hermione with a ridiculously tall stack of books and papers that hid her face from view. A pot of ink and a feather quill was wobbling precariously at the very top, and Harry jumped up to grab them before they fell to the ground.

"Your teachers are giving you  _that_ much homework?" Harry eyed the mountain of school work.

"Oh, no, I checked out some extra books for background information," Hermione explained casually, placing the pile on the end of the bed. "We have a transfiguration exam this Friday, and I was looking for more details on the Felifors Spell."

"You look like you're being devoured by a library," Harry grinned.

"I told her she didn't need to bring her entire desk, but here we are," Ron chuckled.

Hermione scowled as she sat down on a stray chair. "You know, you could be doing homework too, Ron."

"I'll do it later," Ron waved his hand, dropping the chess board on the bed as well. Hermione rolled her eyes -- "later" meant the night before it's due.

"Want one?" Ron held one of the Bertie Botts boxes out to Harry.

"Yes!" Harry happily took one from Ron, ripping into it and searching for a tasty-looking color. 

"Oh, bugger," Ron grimaced. "I got dirty sock first."

Harry cringed. He had experienced quite a few nasty flavors in the past too. He popped a yellow one in his mouth, and fortunately it was banana. Ron pulled up a chair and the two of them began to place the chess figurines on the board in their assigned spots. Harry was about to put a castle in the right corner when he heard the door behind him open. Harry turned to see Professor Dumbledore standing in the entryway, and suddenly anxiety creeped back into his mind.

"Hello Harry," he said, smiling at Harry over his crescent moon glasses. "Would you mind coming with me to my office for a moment?"

Harry was silent, staring at Professor Dumbledore uneasily. "Okay," he finally replied, his voice embarrassingly shaky, getting up from bed.

"We won't be long," Professor Dumbledore told Ron and Hermione kindly. Harry looked to his friends, who were staring at him with worry and curiosity. "If you would follow me, Harry."

Professor Dumbledore led Harry out of the infirmary and down several corridors. Luckily, few people were out of their dormitories after dinner, so Harry was undisturbed. However, the anticipation was nearly unbearable, and Harry found himself fumbling with his fingers as a distraction as they walked.

"Lemon drop," Professor Dumbledore declared, and the gargoyle guarding the entrance sprang aside. Harry trailed behind him as they ascended the stairs and entered his office once again.

"Have a seat," Professor Dumbledore gestured to a chair in front of the desk as he took a seat behind the desk.

Harry sat down before him, trying to calm his nerves and feeling a sense of unpleasant nostalgia in the room. His mind kept wandering back to that chaotic night when he had received that horrible letter, and he wondered what Professor Dumbledore had decided to do about the situation.

 _Surely that's what he wants me here for,_ Harry thought.  _To tell me what he's going to do._

Professor Dumbledore's pale blue eyes burned into him. It reminded him of how Professor Lupin had stared at him just the same, back when Professor Lupin told him about his parents and showed him the album with photographs of them. It seemed so long ago, after everything that had happened to him since.

After spending quite a while in his own head, Professor Dumbledore was still gazing at him and not saying a word. Harry wished he would just tell him what he was going to do, because he didn't think he could handle being alone with his thoughts anymore.

"Have you enjoyed your weekend?" Professor Dumbledore finally spoke.

"Good," Harry answered cautiously, unsure of how Dumbledore was going to progress the conversation.

Professor Dumbledore seemed to consider Harry's response before he smiled and leaned back against his chair. "I'm glad that you were able to have a moment of calm after these recent occurrences."

Harry nodded, waiting to hear the real reason they were both there.

"Of course, I do not want to disturb this peace," Professor Dumbledore said, "but I feel that I must tell you what we plan to do in regards to your family."

Harry looked at him anxiously, wringing his hands in his lap.

"We will be enforcing more supervision in Privet Drive," Professor Dumbledore began. "I will send a few wizards and witches to your street. They will be able to enforce that your uncle and aunt stay in line. They will be ready to intervene if anything crosses the line. While you are living there, you will be perfectly safe," he explained.

Harry felt a tug at his heart. While he may be safer with wizards and outside his door, he would surely still feel miserable. At Privet Drive, Harry is simply a burden and a pain to the Dursley's. It is so incredibly lonely there -- with no one to talk to him, to hug him, to remind him that he's loved.

No one loves him there.

"Do I have to go?" Harry let the question slip out of his mouth, voice small and fragile. 

Professor Dumbledore simply gave him a sad smile, pity twinkling in his pale eyes. "There are reasons why you must stay there that you can't know now. I don't wish to cause you pain, Harry. If there was another option that would keep you completely safe, I would most certainly choose it."

Harry sighed. "I understand. Thank you, Professor." Harry stood, turning for the door.

"Harry."

He looked back at the sound of his name, meeting Professor Dumbledore's crystal eyes again.

"You are not alone, Harry. There are many people that deeply care for you, and Hogwarts will always be there for you when you return to school. Please remember that this summer," Professor Dumbledore said.

Harry was momentarily stunned. The words had touched him deeply. He managed to give Dumbledore a small smile and a whispered thank you before dashing out the door.

Once he was out in the corridor again, his heart soared, and a huge grin rested on his face. Despite how much he dreaded returning to Privet Drive, he knew that Professor Dumbledore's words were true. Ron had mentioned that they wanted to take Harry and Hermione to the next Quidditch World Cup, and that if they went, Harry could stay at the Burrow for the rest of the summer. He wouldn't be at Privet Drive for long, and even if the Dursley's didn't love him, it wouldn't matter.

So many other people did.


End file.
